


Caught Between

by TheGoldenTeam333



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Dark, Family, Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-24
Updated: 2021-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-10 20:54:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 14
Words: 43,945
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28293405
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheGoldenTeam333/pseuds/TheGoldenTeam333
Summary: In his 4th year, Harry feels like he has lost everything while also fighting for his life in the Triwizard Tournament. However, he may find that, perhaps, he has actually found everything he has always wanted. AU
Comments: 3
Kudos: 21





	1. Prologue

** Caught Between **

** Prologue **

“Anything to say?” the professor asked.

“Is there ever?” Harry said.

* * *

Harry sat rigidly in the same chair, staring blankly into the same flames. They provided no warmth, no solace, no comfort. The professor shifted and spoke.

“Talk to me.”

A single tear rolled down Harry’s pale cheek.

“He’s dead.”

* * *

Harry walked into the rooms and sat once again. He and the professor continued to question these meetings, wondering if they had any use or validity at all. He, however, was beginning to like them a bit.

“How are you?” the professor asked.

Harry blinked at the fire.

“She hates me.”

* * *

Harry sunk into his chair. Yes, it was now _his_ chair. They had discussed it the other day. It had been a pleasant conversation. Somehow he knew today would not be as pleasant.

“Tell me about the Dursleys,” the professor said.

He had been right.

“They hurt me.”

* * *

Harry looked at the professor’s sad but determined face from his chair. He wondered what had happened even though he was sure he knew.

“I’ve told the headmaster your situation,” the professor said. “He’s said you must return.”

“I know.”

“I will not let you return.”

Harry smiled slightly.

“I know.”

* * *

Harry warmed his hands on a cup of tea as he curled up on his chair. A storm raged outside. He hated storms but he was…safe here.

“Tell me about your godfather,” the professor said, holding his own cup of tea.

“I haven’t talked to him since he went into hiding,” Harry said. “I’ve sent letters.”

“Has he replied?”

“I haven’t talked to him since he went into hiding.”

* * *

Harry contemplated the upcoming day, sitting in his chair. He really wasn’t ready for this even if he _had_ managed to survive this far. Granted, he hadn’t been ready for the others either.

“What are you thinking about?” the professor asked.

“Tomorrow.”

* * *

Harry once again stared blankly into the fire, wishing it could do something to fix what had happened. His arm burned with pain but he paid it no mind. He could do nothing but replay all he had witnessed in his mind over and over again.

“There was nothing you could do,” the professor said.

“I know.”

The professor gave a small sigh.

“You’ll be coming to my home this summer.”

“I know.”

* * *

But let’s return to the beginning…


	2. Chapter 1

“I have had just about enough of you two,” Albus Dumbledore roared at his professor and student. Madam Pomfrey stood strictly by, awaiting her chance to finish treating her newest patients. “I have been patient and accommodating, but this is it. We are just days into the school year and you have already progressed to causing each other physical harm.”

Severus Snape and Harry Potter cast glares at each other but turned chastened looks at the headmaster. Dumbledore, however, wasn’t fazed by the expressions. Rather, his face remained uncharacteristically stern and hard as he stared at them.

Harry didn’t know what the issue was. The ‘physical harm’ had been the aftermath of an exploding potion which was caused by the fight they had been having. Distracted by his rage, Harry had put the wrong ingredient in and it had exploded all over them, giving them numerous burns and bruises from Snape bringing them harshly to the floor. Their animosity had never bothered Dumbledore before, so why now?

“You are going to learn to tolerate each other,” Dumbledore was saying. Harry and Snape frowned at what he could possibly be planning. “From now on, Harry, once a week you will go to Professor Snape’s rooms and the two of you will spend no less than an hour together. Find things to talk about, read, do your individual work, but do it together, learn about each other, and learn to get along. I will not tolerate such behaviour any longer, especially when it has no merit or reasoning.”

“Professor!” Harry protested, eyes wide at the idea of having to spend free time with _Snape_.

“Headmaster, I hardly think this is necessary,” Snape said and Dumbledore’s eyes narrowed.

“I think you will find, Severus, that it is I who decides what is necessary and I have deemed this quite necessary,” Dumbledore said. “We are in the prelude to war, my boys, and this behaviour will only hinder our efforts once we are at war.”

Snape and Harry remained silent, both ashamed in the face of Dumbledore’s anger and internally fuming at having to spend time together.

“You will learn the truth about each other and this behaviour and treatment of each other will cease. Understood?”

“Yes, sir,” they said together and glared at each other again.

“Begin this immediately,” Dumbledore said. “Severus, you will write me a weekly report after each meeting so I might monitor your progress.”

“Yes, Albus,” Snape said tightly.

Dumbledore nodded sharply. “Have a good evening, boys.”

They watched the headmaster leave the Hospital Wing in aggravated silence and petulantly took potions that Pomfrey forced on them. They then stalked out of the infirmary. Snape whirled around once they were in the hall, making Harry stop abruptly with wide eyes.

“Be at my office tomorrow evening at seven. Do not be late. Every Thursday at seven o’clock,” Snape said.

Harry wanted to snap and refuse but knew it would get him nowhere. So he clenched his jaw and nodded. Snape just sneered and stalked off to his dungeons. Harry huffed in irritation and made his way back up to Gryffindor Tower, choosing to forgo dinner.

He sat heavily in one of the chairs by the fireplace, finding himself wishing, not for the first time, that Sirius would answer his letters. He had already sent two but he had yet to receive a reply. His summer had been horrible as his uncle had stepped up the blows he dealt. He still had a lot of healing to do from his uncle’s treatment. Not only had his summer been awful but it also seemed as though his relationship with Snape was even more volatile. He was also having the freakiest dreams. He just wanted someone to talk to, someone who might be able to explain or help or just make him feel…safer. He just wanted to feel safe for once.

“Harry? You never came to dinner,” Hermione said when she and Ron returned to the common room later on.

“What happened?” Ron asked.

“Dumbledore’s angry at me and Snape,” Harry said. “He thinks we need to stop fighting, that it’s getting out of hand.”

“He’s not wrong,” Hermione said, gaining a blank look from Harry and an affronted look from Ron. “The Death Eaters are active which means Voldemort is too. There _will_ be a war and probably sooner rather than later. How can we fight a war together when we can’t all tolerate each other on a regular day?”

“Who says Snape’s even on our side?” Ron said.

“He is,” Harry said. “As much as I hate him, he is completely loyal to Dumbledore.”

“I dunno, mate,” Ron said uncertainly. “He seems like good Death Eater material to me.”

“There’s more to the professor than we could ever even hope to understand,” Hermione said. “We will need him as an ally in the war but that can’t happen if we can’t get along.”

“Funny, Dumbledore said basically the same thing,” Harry said with a sigh. “In any case, Dumbledore’s way ahead of you, Hermione. He’s got Snape and me spending an evening a week together to get to know each other and learn to get along. He sounded pretty annoyed with the way we act towards each other.”

“At least he’s after Snape about it for once,” Ron grumbled. “He’s never seemed to care about Snape being a git before.”

“They’ve also never caused each other physical harm before,” Hermione pointed out.

“It was a complete accident and you know it,” Harry said, his eyes narrowing at her.

“I know,” she said, “but it also wouldn’t have happened if you could hold your temper and get along with Professor Snape.”

“He doesn’t exactly make it easy,” Harry said.

“I’m aware but it also goes both ways,” she said. “You are both responsible for the way your relationship is.”

Harry huffed, knowing she was right. He exchanged a knowing look with Ron, both of them quirking small smiles.

* * *

Harry groaned quietly to himself as he stood outside Snape’s office. There was a huge part of him that was saying to leave, to ignore Dumbledore’s orders. There was the other part, however, that was smaller but louder and telling him to knock. He sighed and did as he was told.

“Enter.”

He pushed the door open and slowly walked into the office, finding Snape sitting at his desk. Once the door closed, Snape looked up, looking just as irritated about the situation as Harry felt.

“Come,” he said shortly, rising from the desk. He walked to a door that was in the far corner and went through after tapping it with his wand. “You are to always knock before entering my quarters.”

“Yes, sir,” Harry said, following the man into surprisingly comfortable looking rooms, surprising for them being Snape’s. While he had expected Snape’s rooms to be nothing but green and silver, there was actually very little green and no silver. Instead, it was all earth tones with beige sofas, auburn chairs, and a dark oak wood coffee table with a glass center. There were puffy, dark green pillows on the sofas as a nice accent and the thick, soft carpet was also dark green. All the furniture encircled a large fireplace that was currently lit and roaring.

“Sit,” Snape snapped, taking his own seat on the sofa. Harry hesitated for a time and then sat stiffly in one of the large chairs next to the sofa. It was so soft and he knew he could into it if he let himself. For now, though, he sat straight and folded his hands in his lap.

Tense silence fell and fell thick.

Harry had no idea what Dumbledore expected them to talk about. Not only did they hate each other but they simply had nothing in common. Slytherins and Gyrffindors were completely different. Snape was a Potions and books person while Harry was Defense and Quidditch. Not that he didn’t like reading, he did, and he was at least interested in Potions outside of Snape’s classroom. But…he was the Boy Who Lived and James Potter’s son. He had an image he had to present, didn’t he? Harry Potter was supposed to like training, fighting, and being active. He loved being active but he would also love the chance to just read a book or explore his own personal magic away from battle training.

But none of that was Harry Potter, he wasn’t supposed to, wasn’t allowed…so why bother?

He snorted to himself quietly at the brief ludicrous thought of telling all that to Snape. Like Snape would understand or even _care_. He was just like everyone else and only saw him as the next James Potter.

“I can hear you brooding over here, Potter.”

Harry glared at Snape for interrupting his musings. “That a problem?”

“Considering you are in my quarters, I’d prefer you not bring more misery to an already miserable situation,” Snape said.

“Hard to do when you’re here,” Harry snapped. “Misery seeps out of you.”

Snape’s eyes narrowed in anger. “I do not appreciate being insulted in my own quarters,” he growled.

“I don’t like being insulted in general but that’s never stopped you before,” Harry spat.

Snape sneered. “Have I hurt your precious, delicate feelings, Potter? So spoiled you can’t handle criticism?”

“Like I’m remotely close to spoiled,” Harry scoffed. “And your ‘criticism’ seems a lot like abuse and hatred.”

“Do you or do you not have a Firebolt, Potter?”

Harry’s face tensed in anger. “That was from Sirius, a gift.”

“No, not spoiled,” Snape mocked. “And all your adoring fans.”

“Oh, you mean the people who turn around and hate me the second I’m not the perfect golden child? Yeah, great _fans_ ,” Harry said, rolling his eyes.

“Don’t be an imbecile, no one could ever hate you,” Snape snapped.

Harry glared. “I know of one person who does.”

“My apologies for not worshipping you like the rest.”

“I never asked for it. I don’t even want it.”

Snape barked a harsh laugh. “Sure, a Potter doesn’t want fame and eternal worldly praise. Don’t kid yourself.”

“Maybe my father was like that but I am not my father.”

“You are every bit the person James Potter once was, egotistical, a bully, all of it. Think you’re above it all, greater than Merlin himself. You are every ounce of your father but I will not indulge.”

Harry hardened. “I am not my father and I am definitely _not_ a bully.”

Snape raised a condescending eyebrow. “Oh really? And all your encounters with Mr. Malfoy?”

“He started it!”

Snape shook his head. “Blaming others for your faults and failures. Just like—“

“I’m not my father!” Harry yelled, unconsciously jumping to his feet.

Snape snarled. “Do not yell at me, boy.”

“You call me and my father bullies? I think you need to check yourself, Snape because you are the only bully I see here!”

“How dare you, you insolent, insignificant little brat?” Snape growled quietly, also getting to his feet to tower over Harry. “You will not disrespect me in my own home.”

“Then stop being a git and give me a reason to respect you.”

Snape’s face twisted and when his hand came up, Harry honestly thought he was about to be hit. He flinched instinctively and cringed when the hand gripped his upper arm tight right where he had a still healing bruise. He hissed in pain and stumbled, staring at Snape in surprise when he was shoved out into the office.

“Leave my sight this instant.”

And the door was slammed shut.

_Well, that went just as well as I expected_ , Harry mused with a sigh and headed back up to Gryffindor Tower. He just shook his head when he realized they hadn’t even managed their one-hour minimum.

* * *

And so it went on. Every Thursday evening saw Harry entering Snape’s rooms only for them to sit in silence and then scream and curse each other. It wasn’t until the fourth week that they finally reached one hour but their fighting began shortly after and Harry was once again kicked out. As the weeks continued, Harry gained homework that he was able to bring with him even though it didn’t protect him from Snape’s rage and hatred. His supposed stupidity was frequently addressed and their interaction never got better, but rather devolved into their usual screams.

His assumed ego and fame-seeking ways were brought up often as well since the Triwizard Tournament would be taking place that year. Snape continuously harassed him about his assumed desire to enter the tournament and gain that eternal glory Dumbledore had mentioned. Of course, Harry wasted his breath arguing against the accusations but he refused to be accused of being a spoiled, attention-seeker when he was so far from it. He also refused to be any kind of a step in for his parents. He had no idea what kind of people they had truly been and he didn’t want to be compared to potentially false images. Additionally, he wanted to be his own person rather than a reincarnation or the Boy Who Lived.

He blew out a breath and sat heavily in front of the Gryffindor fire. As the meetings went on and it drew closer to the beginning of the tournament, Harry couldn’t help but feel tension rising within the castle. He tried to shake it off, figuring it was just because of his continuous nightmares, but he couldn’t help but wonder. It was completely possible that it was too good to be true to think he could go a year without anything happening. He could hope but was it possible?

He gasped when his scar suddenly burst with a short but sharp pain. His hand flew to his forehead and he massaged his scar, easing away the lingering sting. He frowned as it disappeared. Beginning over the summer, he had started to wonder about his scar. It wouldn’t seem a scar would or should hurt so many years after the injury. However, it hadn’t been just a regular wound; it had been caused by magic. Dark magic?

Was there such a thing?

Hagrid had said there were Dark wizards and had sort of implied that Voldemort used Dark magic. Even Dumbledore had sort of alluded to the existence of Dark magic after the Chamber events. But it didn’t seem like magic could be qualified in such terms. Anything could be considered ‘Dark’ if used in such a way. Which wouldn’t make the _magic_ itself bad but, rather, the _way_ it was _used_.

So his scar was caused by magic, but because of the way Voldemort used the magic and also the situation it had been caused in, there could be something bad behind his scar. There could be some kind of magical reside that was now affecting it. He would have to look into it.

Until then, maybe he would try Sirius again. Maybe he’d actually receive an answer. Sirius had seemed so upset to have to leave him last year so why wasn’t he answering any of Harry’s letters? Didn’t Sirius want them to be a family or at least as close as they could get for the moment?

* * *

Snape growled to himself as he stared into the fire. These meetings with Potter had to be one of the worst ideas Dumbledore had ever had. Their current relationship worked just fine. There was no need for them to get along and like each other.

“How was it tonight, Severus?”

Snape glared at the headmaster. “Same as the last three. This is all pointless, Albus. Nothing will change.”

“I beg to differ, my boy,” Dumbledore said. “The two of you are not so different and we need established alliances if we want a head start on the coming war.”

“Potter and I do not have to be friends to win a war.”

“Perhaps not but it would be quite the advantage and the both of you are missing something in your lives. You could be each other’s answers.”

Snape rolled his eyes. “You are delusional. Nothing will come of these meetings.”

“Perhaps,” Dumbledore mused. “If anything, maybe you could at least provide young Harry with an outlet.”

“Meaning?” Snape drawled.

“I fear Harry may experience awful things this year and he has a harsh past he has yet to reveal to anyone.”

Snape’s eyes narrowed. “What do you mean?”

Dumbledore simply smiled. “Have a good night, my boy.”

Snape glared and left the office. There was no part of him that believed anything Dumbledore had said. Well, maybe there was a small part. He supposed an alliance with Potter could be beneficial in the war that was to come. Potter was the one destined to defeat Voldemort and he would surely be a powerful wizard one day. The boy would certainly need training and there weren’t many trustworthy people that could prepare him for Voldemort. Not that he would want to do extra work with the brat but Dumbledore was sure to enlist his help with Potter one day.

He didn’t have to be Potter’s friend but at least tolerate the child enough that they could efficiently work together down the line.

He blew out a frustrated breath and shook his head as he entered his rooms.

He would tolerate Potter minimally and that was it.

* * *

**A/N: If you enjoyed, leave a review.**


	3. Chapter 2

Harry walked into Snape’s room a couple weeks later, silently sitting in the same chair with his book bag. So consumed by his thoughts he barely even noticed Snape sit on the sofa or the tea tray he placed on the coffee table. He slowly pulled out his Charms homework and set to work…well, more set to staring blankly at the textbook and his notes.

He had written and sent his letter to Sirius and, once again, failed to receive a reply. He knew it was probably difficult for his godfather to write especially since he didn’t even know where Sirius was staying, but Sirius was his family and loved him. Surely he would’ve made an effort to write Harry back, especially after three letters all containing his concerns about his strange dreams and painful scar. It seemed important, like stuff Sirius would want to know. Even Ron and Hermione had said Sirius would want to know. But maybe they were wrong. Maybe Sirius didn’t care as much as he thought. Maybe he was disappearing the way Lupin had.

The thought hurt. A lot.

Sirius was all he had, the only thing left of his parents, his family.

He thought Sirius had felt the same, had wanted them to be a real family. Maybe he was wrong. Maybe he’d never have a family.

Maybe it was just how it was meant to be.

“Potter!”

Harry jumped at the shout and looked over at the professor.

“While I certainly enjoy being ignored,” Snape sneered, gaining a small glare from Harry, “I would appreciate some manners. Such as answering my offer of tea.”

Here Harry blushed slightly. He hadn’t intentionally been rude for once. “Sorry, sir. Was just thinking. I’d like some tea.

“I do hope you don’t think too hard. Wouldn’t want you hurting yourself,” Snape said, pouring and handing Harry a cup of tea.

Harry glared. “I was thinking about my homework.”

“So you do know how to do your homework properly. Funny, I never would have guessed,” Snape said.

Harry’s glare deepened. “Well, I’m sorry that most of the time I’m more focused on saving my life rather than my Potions essay. Be glad you get any work from me at all.”

“Sometimes I think no work would be preferable to the pathetic work you give me,” Snape said. “Besides, you wouldn’t be in life-threatening situations if you learned to control your hero complex.”

“I don’t have a hero complex,” Harry growled.

“Could’ve fooled me,” Snape drawled.

Harry wanted to say more but he knew things would only get worse if he did. He just wanted to be silent and think. So that’s exactly what he did. Instead of responding, he just shook his head and looked back at his notes. How he wished Sirius would answer, would give him advice on his dreams and his situation with Snape.

He probably wouldn’t get much from Sirius in regards to Snape. His godfather absolutely despised the Potions master.

Harry sighed and tapped his quill on his parchment, not noticing the professor’s stare.

Snape frowned as he observed the boy. He was much more forlorn and distraught than he had been only a week earlier. Something had clearly happened, but what? On second thought, why did he care? Whatever it was, was keeping the child quiet and that was perfectly fine with him.

Although Potter’s sudden change _was_ odd. Quite frankly he seemed to be in the beginning stages of depression.

He snorted. What would Potter have to be depressed about? His fame? His fortune? His adoring fans? His loving relatives?

Snape just shook his head and sneered at Potter. “Anything to say?”

Without looking up, Harry snapped, “Is there ever?”

* * *

“This is the Goblet of Fire,” Dumbledore announced as he revealed the large ancient, intricate goblet. “For those of you who wish to enter, write your name on parchment and place it in the goblet before the start of the Halloween feast tomorrow evening. No one under the age of seventeen may enter the tournament.”

Protests were shouted out.

Harry looked around at all the protestors, all from Hogwarts. The students that had come from Durmstrang and Beauxbatons were all clearly of age and so it was mostly just fifth and sixth year Hogwarts students voicing complaints. He was slightly surprised to see Fred and George arguing with the crowd.

He just shrugged when he looked at Ron. He was perfectly fine with the age limit. He never had a desire to enter the tournament and the Age Line meant he absolutely couldn’t. It was all fine with him. He would be perfectly happy sitting in the stands watching the death-defying events from the sidelines for once.

“The money would be nice, have to admit,” Ron said. “Hell, even eternal glory sounds pretty damn good.”

Harry just laughed. “You can have it all, mate. I’m good.”

“Your loss,” Ron said and they laughed. “Guess it’s not really worth it, a potentially deadly tournament just for some money.”

“No, not quite worth it,” Harry said, eating a few fried mushrooms.

“It’s horrific that this tournament was ever brought back,” Hermione said in disgust. “It’s barbaric and just asking for trouble.”

Harry and Ron just smiled at each other. The tournament would be fun to watch.

Harry looked around, wondering who from Hogwarts would enter the tournament. He couldn’t really imagine anyone in Hogwarts willing to risk their lives in such a way. Well, regardless, it was their choice and he had nothing to do with anything.

His eyes were drawn up to the staff table and they settled on Professor Moody. He felt a strange jump in his stomach, the same feeling he got every time he saw the man. Something about the old Auror made him uneasy and it was not a feeling that was going away.

“You okay, mate?” Ron interrupted, dragging Harry’s attention back to him.

“What? Oh, yeah, I’m fine,” Harry said, watching Ron cast a quick glance at the staff table.

“Thinking of ways to kill Snape in your next meeting?” Ron said and Harry laughed.

“No, nothing like that,” Harry said. “You know, he actually hasn’t been quite as bad lately. I mean, he’s still Snape, don’t get me wrong, but he’s seemed to have toned it down a touch.”

Ron gave him an incredulous look. “You sure you’ve been meeting with the right professor? Maybe you’ve been seeing Karkaroff.”

Harry grinned and shook his head in amusement. “I’m pretty sure Karkaroff is worse than Snape. I’ll choose Snape any day.”

Ron glanced up at the Durmstrang highmaster who was sneering at his food as though it had greatly offended him. “I might be with you on that one.”

They both laughed quietly.

“But, seriously, Snape’s been okay?” Ron said.

“He’s been okay for Snape,” Harry said, nodding. “We still end up fighting every time but it feels more…forced, like he’s making himself come up with things for us to fight about. We don’t seem as vicious anymore.”

“Damn Dumbledore was right,” Ron said in surprise and Harry looked at him. “You two are learning to tolerate each other. Never thought I’d live to see the day,” he said dramatically, laughing when Harry tossed a spoon at him.

“I’m not sure we’ve gotten that far,” Harry said, “but I guess he might be heading that direction.”

“Y’know,” Ron said, swallowing his mouthful of potatoes, “Dumbledore might not be wrong about all this. Bet Snape knows how to fight. He probably _would_ be a good guy to have on our side rather than against us.”

Harry blinked in shock. “Are you, Ron Weasley, defending and accepting Snape?”

Ron rolled his eyes with a grin. “Shut up, Harry. I can come around sometimes.”

“So if Snape and I become the best of friends, we have your approval?” Harry said.

“Well, let’s not push it too far,” Ron said and they both burst out laughing, drawing the attention of two sets of eyes at the staff table.

* * *

“Harry Potter!”

Silence descended on the Great Hall and Harry’s eyes flashed between three key people. He gazed at Dumbledore who held the little piece of parchment that apparently had his name on it and had been expelled from the Goblet of Fire. The headmaster’s expression was a mixture of fear and anger. His eyes jumped to Snape whose eyes were unreadable but they did hold something that Harry would have recognized had it come from anyone else. Finally, he turned to look at Ron next to him. His best friend had a look of absolute fear but it was also intermingled with strong support.

“You’ll be okay,” Ron said encouragingly. “Go. I’ll be here for you.”

Harry gave him a thankful smile and nodded before pushing himself up from the Gryffindor table. All eyes were on him and most were accusatory and angry. Others were confused and curious. A select few were actually nervous, unsettled, and worried. He tried to ignore them all as well as the whispering that began as he walked up to the podium and Dumbledore.

He wasn’t completely sure why but once he was in front of Dumbledore, the headmaster roughly shoved the scrap of parchment into his hands. He supposed Dumbledore wanted to see his reaction or wanted him to see the impossibility that had taken place. Harry looked down and felt himself pale even more, felt his stomach drop even further. It was definitely his name and it was even his writing.

His eyes flew back up to Dumbledore’s hard ones. How was this possible? Why was it happening?

He swallowed thickly as Dumbledore gestured for him to go through the same door behind the staff table that the other champions had disappeared through. He passed the other staff members, gaining an extremely unsettling frown from Moody. He took a subtle step back and around the strange man, heading past Snape next. Their eyes connected. Being that it was Snape and their relationship was still on questionable terms, he fully expected to see pure rage and accusation in Snape’s face. Neither was present, however. Instead, he could see confusion as well as that same unknown emotion. Whatever it was, it helped ease the tension and fear inside him very slightly.

Finally cutting the contact, Harry continued on and walked into the Trophy Room to join the other champions, all of whom gave him looks of great confusion. He didn’t blame them. The situation should be impossible. It should be impossible for there to be a fourth champion. There were only meant to be three and definitely not two from the same school.

Before any of them could ask any questions, the door opened and Dumbledore, Snape, McGonagall, Moody, Karkaroff, Madam Maxime, and Barty Crouch all entered the room and instantly cornered Harry. Dumbledore reached out and tightly gripped Harry’s wrist, making him wince at the pain. The headmaster paid no attention, his expression hard. Harry flinched in pain and fear.

“Did you put your name in the Goblet?” Dumbledore said, his voice accusatory.

“N-no,” Harry stuttered. “I-I didn’t want to enter and I wouldn’t even know how to get past the Age Line. I’m only fourteen!”

Dumbledore’s eyes narrowed.

“I didn’t enter!” Harry argued. “I almost die several times every year as it is, why would I enter a tournament where I would most likely die?”

Dumbledore’s grasp tightened and Harry gasped out loud. “How did you enter?”

“I-I didn’t!” Harry shouted. “Let go! You-you’re hurting me!”

“Headmaster!” Snape, of all people, swooped in and stepped between Harry and Dumbledore, his hand encircling Dumbledore’s wrist. “Release him,” he said quietly, his own grasp tightening on the headmaster’s wrist until Dumbledore released Harry. Snape moved subtly until he was almost completely blocking Harry, glaring at Dumbledore. “He did not put his name in. He is fourteen and would not have known the magic it would take to fool the Age Line. Someone else has entered the boy.”

Harry peeked around the professor at all the angry faces. He would never admit it but the headmaster had honestly frightened him and he was having a hard time handling the shaking in his body. Almost unconsciously and not caring just who it was, he reached out and grasped the back of Snape’s robes. He had questions and he was confused about so many things, but he didn’t care at the moment. All he knew was that Snape was protecting him and he felt almost safe with the man.

He would examine his sanity later.

“The contract is magically binding regardless,” Crouch said. “Despite the circumstances and unconventionality, Mr. Potter has been chosen and he is a Champion.”

Everyone turned to stare at Harry who shrunk behind Snape.

So much for his normal year.

* * *

Harry sat in the chair, staring at the little piece of parchment that held his name and had now changed everything. He was now one of the contestants in a tournament that could potentially kill him, particularly because it was a tournament for seventeen year olds and adults, not fourteen year olds.

What was he supposed to do? How was he supposed to survive? Why did everyone think he put his name in the Goblet? Why did no one believe him?

Except Snape.

He glanced up at the Potions master who was quietly reading a book on the sofa. The man hadn’t said anything when he showed up in the office except for a quiet, civil, “Good evening.” Harry had been surprised. He had expected questions or for the oddly protective nature the man had exuded earlier in the evening to fall and for Snape to just start yelling like he usually would. But none of that had happened. He simply let Harry in, got the usual tray of tea, and then grabbed his book and settled on the sofa.

Harry hadn’t felt like being around the Gryffindors, knowing there would be many who would be angry and bombard him with questions. He had only spoken to Ron, telling his friend where he would be and also to quickly ensure Ron knew he had not entered the tournament. A huge load had been lifted, though not all of it, when Ron reassured him that he knew Harry never would have entered, especially not without telling Ron. And so Harry had headed down to the dungeons and Snape’s rooms.

“I guess I should go back to the common room,” Harry said, breaking the comfortable silence.

Snape looked up from his book. “There is nothing you would like to discuss?”

Harry blinked, surprised Snape was offering. “Not sure there’s anything to talk about.”

“You don’t want to talk about what happened tonight?”

Harry shrugged. “It happened. Shouldn’t be surprised.” He got to his feet with a sigh. “There’s always someone that wants me dead.”

“Potter…”

“Thanks for letting me come down here,” Harry said. “Have a good night, Professor.”


	4. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH, GRAPHIC DEPICTIONS OF VIOLENCE AND BODILY HARM

“Potter!” Snape roared, storming over to where Harry and Draco Malfoy had their wands drawn. Harry’s wand was raised while Malfoy had dropped his arm when he spotted Snape ahead of time. Harry groaned and let his arm swing down by his side. The strange civility that had been between Harry and Snape the night the Champions were chosen had pretty much disappeared. They were just as angry and hateful to each other as usual. They were constantly fighting again and their weekly meetings had returned to being completely useless.

“Cursing students, Potter?” Snape sneered and Harry glared at him.

“I’d tell you ‘no’ but you won’t believe me anyways,” Harry said angrily, shoving his wand back into his pocket.

“I think twenty points from Gryffindor and detention should suffice,” Snape said and Harry glared again. “Tonight, Potter.”

Harry sighed and shook his head angrily as he watched Snape, Malfoy, and his pack stalk off. The fight had been stupid and, from the last few days, nothing out of the ordinary. Suffice to say, he hadn’t received much support from the Hogwarts population. Rather, the majority of the students were angry at him, believing he stole the attention from Cedric Diggory and Hufflepuff house. Most believed he would not survive, Malfoy being one of them. The Malfoy prince apparently had a bet with his father going on Harry’s survival chances. Apparently Malfoy didn’t think he’d last more than five minutes.

He sighed again and headed to the Quidditch Pitch, climbing into the stands. He wanted to disappear, even worse than in second year. Then everyone was just scared. Now everyone hated him, even most of the Gryffindors. He had a handful of friends left: Ron, Hermione, Ginny, Fred and George, Neville, and Dean. Even Seamus had turned on him, thinking he was seeking attention. He frowned to himself sadly.

Was it really so hard to like him? All these people that called themselves his friends were sure quick to turn on him. That wasn’t friendship. So why was it so hard for anyone to truly like him and care about him? Despite all the care and help he showed the previous year, Lupin clearly didn’t care since he had completely disappeared from Harry’s life.

Biting his lip, Harry realized, painfully, the same could be said for Sirius. His godfather hadn’t made any effort to contact him despite Harry’s numerous letters. Sirius had pretty much got what he wanted. He exposed Pettigrew though the rat had escaped. He got Pettigrew away from Hogwarts, his primary reason for breaking out of Azkaban and into Hogwarts. His main business was done and that business had not included Harry. Harry was not his main focus or concern, was not the primary receiver of his care. It hurt to know even his own godfather wanted nothing to do with him.

Additionally, from his actions the night of the Champion reveals, it was clear Dumbledore did not truly care either. He hadn’t believed Harry when he said he didn’t enter his name. He had actually physically hurt Harry and he hadn’t spoken or even really looked at Harry since that night.

Ron was truly the only one he knew that honestly cared, but one out of so many including his own relatives didn’t completely fill the empty hole he had inside. Oddly and ironically, Snape was the only one from which Harry had felt genuine care even if it had been extremely short lived.

Maybe he wasn’t meant to have a family. He had managed on his own for this long so he really didn’t need anyone anymore. Maybe he was just meant to be alone.

“Hey, Harry!”

He looked up and smiled at Ron who was approaching him.

Well, not completely alone.

* * *

Harry glared at the Hufflepuff that shoulder-checked him as he passed. The action had become increasingly common over the days. It had been just over a week and the anger towards him was only getting worse. He sighed and knocked on Snape’s office door.

“Come in,” Snape said, swinging the door open.

Harry did so, blinking in confusion when he saw a small stack of books on the small table in the corner. He looked at Snape who grabbed what appeared to be a roll of parchment.

“You are to rewrite your Potions essay,” Snape said, handing him the parchment. “This was horrific. I refuse to accept it when you have had many opportunities to ask for assistance.”

Harry stared at him in blank surprise. “You…want me to redo an assignment for my detention?”

“Is that a problem?” Snape raised an eyebrow and Harry shook his head. “Follow the notes I have written. The books I have provided will allow for sufficient in depth research. You may leave when you have finished.”

Harry’s head spun as Snape went to his desk, heading to the small desk himself. The professor really knew how to confuse him, always changing his attitude and treatment of Harry. Their relationship seemed so volatile as it was continuously unknown if they would be fighting like usual or newly civil. Harry just sighed and sat down, pulling parchment and a quill from his bag. He unfolded his original essay and was surprised to see actual feedback and tips rather than the usual bright red ‘T’ and derogatory comment at the top.

And so he began to work, looking at and using each comment the Potions master had written. It was all extremely helpful and he found himself writing one of the best essays he ever had. He had never considered asking for Snape’s help on the assignment. Why would he? Snape had never cared before, he had just simply failed Harry and commented on Harry’s stupidity. It was how it had always been. They both knew Harry was horrible at Potions and that he had never put much effort into any of his schoolwork. It wasn’t only Potions. He had never put effort in. He never saw the point. It wasn’t like there was anyone who cared if he did well, if he succeeded. His relatives certainly didn’t care. He also knew that school wouldn’t matter once they were at war and he had to fight Voldemort. Essays wouldn’t help him win a war.

He pushed it all aside for now and continued to rewrite his essay. He wasn’t sure how long it took but he eventually finished and it was at least twice as long as the original. He felt strangely satisfied with the essay, knowing it was actually researched and properly done, and also that Snape would approve.

He frowned at himself. Why would he care if Snape approved? Snape hated him, the feeling was mutual, and he really didn’t care what Snape thought of him. He studiously ignored the small part of him that was saying otherwise as he handed Snape his essay. The professor’s eyes scanned the beginning and he hummed.

“Already much better, Potter,” Snape said. “This is the work I expect to receive from now on. Understood?”

“I-I do but, sir, the tournament,” Harry said. “I-I might not—“

“Are you worried?” Snape asked casually.

“Yes, sir,” Harry said quietly, finally admitting it to anyone aside from Ron.

“You will be able to do this, Potter,” Snape said, shocking Harry. “You’re capable of more than you think.”

Harry knew he was gaping but he couldn’t help it.

“You may go,” Snape said dismissively.

Still staring, Harry grabbed his bag and slowly left the office. Staring into space for a moment in the corridor, it was a time before he finally started moving and began the long trek up to Gryffindor Tower. Luckily it was after curfew so he was able to avoid the angry Hogwarts students and he made it to the Tower without issue.

“Ron,” Harry said in surprise when he found Ron sitting in front of the common room fire.

“Hey, Harry,” Ron said, looking up from his Quidditch magazine. “Was starting to think Snape had killed you.”

Harry chuckled, sitting in one of the red armchairs. “Not this time. He had me redo our last essay.”

“Are you serious? That’s it?” Ron said and Harry nodded. “Think there’s something wrong with him? He’s been strange this year.”

“I honestly have no idea what to make of him,” Harry said, shrugging. “He’s giving me whiplash quite frankly.”

They laughed.

“Maybe people _can_ change,” Ron said. “Some people,” he added, thinking of the Dursleys.

“Maybe,” Harry muttered, gazing into the fire. He thought of Dumbledore and Lupin and Sirius, and thought that, while maybe people could change, it wasn’t always necessarily for the better.

* * *

The courtyard was swarming as the students of Hogwarts, Beauxbatons, and Durmstrang excitedly made their way to Hogsmeade village for the first visit of the year. New friends showed the Beauxbatons and Durmstrang students around, encouraging them to buy all kinds of Honeydukes sweets and get closer to the haunted Shrieking Shack. Those of age went into the Three Broomsticks and ordered butterbeers and Firewhiskeys. Those Hogwarts students that weren’t using the tournament as a reason to ignore their schoolwork headed into Scrivenshaft’s to stock up on quills, ink, and parchment.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione were wandering the village together, making great attempts to discuss anything except the Triwizard Tournament and the fast approaching First Task. The task was a complete mystery as the Champions had been told nothing except that they were only allowed their wands. The lack of information was not making Harry feel any better about the tournament.

“Want butterbeer?” Ron asked.

“Sounds good,” Harry said, nodding.

“I’ll meet you in a bit,” Hermione said. “I told Ginny I’d help her.”

“With what?” Ron frowned.

“None of your business,” Hermione said and walked away down the crowded street.

“What the hell is that all about?” Ron said, still frowning as Harry pulled him towards the Three Broomsticks.

“Who knows,” Harry said, shivering as they finally got out of the brisk weather. It wasn’t exactly cold yet but the air was still chilled especially if stood in for long periods.

“Probably something to do with Viktor Krum,” Ron grumbled as they found an empty table in the busy pub.

Harry just laughed and gave their order to the young girl that came over.

“So how’re things on the Snape front?” Ron asked.

“Well, I haven’t seen him outside of class since last week so no idea if we’ve had a change,” Harry said. “I see him tonight though. For all I know, we’re back at each other’s throats.”

“He is a bit of a lunatic, isn’t he?” Ron said, chuckling.

“More unpredictable in his temperament,” Harry said. “Lately anyways. He used to be totally predictable since he was just perpetually angry and hated me. Now, I have no idea on a day to day basis. Moody, on the other hand, _he’s_ a lunatic.”

Ron raised his bottle to clink against Harry’s. “Totally agree with you there, mate.”

And then they were falling to the ground in a shower of glass and dust.

Harry gasped audibly as his head spun and his ears rang. He heard screaming but it was muffled by his already assaulted ears. He gazed around through blurry eyes, trying to figure out what was happening. Slowly his senses began to return and Harry heard Ron’s shouts before he saw his friend.

“Harry! We have to get out of here! It’s Death Eaters!”

Harry barely registered Ron pushing something off his leg before he was pulled to his feet.

“We have to go! Now!” Ron repeated and they rushed over to the gaping hole that had been the door. Harry paused briefly and stared in horror at the sixth year Ravenclaw lying still on the ground, bloody and buried under rubble.

“Harry!”

He tore his eyes from the young girl and continued stumbling over the destroyed building to join Ron at the giant opening. They pulled their wands as they carefully peered around the remaining bits of wall for danger. Other buildings were now crumbling and, across the road, owls were taking flight in fear as the Hogsmeade Post Office burned. Students, shop owners, and villagers were running around in terror, screaming as the black robe and skeletal mask clad Death Eaters chased them and cast various spells within seconds of each other. Harry frowned as he read some of the spells that flew by, not recognizing most of them.

They both ducked as a stray spell from a seventh year Gryffindor headed their way, causing a chair behind them to burn to a crisp.

“We need to go, get back to school,” Ron said and Harry nodded.

However, they apparently waited too long and a red curse hit the ground between them and sent them flying again in opposite directions.

* * *

Harry blinked slowly, everything seeming to move in slow motion. His body was heavy and everything was blurry, his ears ringing. Pain was coursing through his body and he groaned, attempting to roll onto his front so he could push himself up. The ringing in his ears was replaced by screams, telling him he hadn’t been unconscious for long. It took some time and effort, but he eventually managed to push himself painfully to his knees. He gasped in pain when he attempted to get to his feet, only to find a large piece of glass in his right side. His eyes closed briefly as his hand came to rest on the blood-soaked shirt beneath the shard. He wasn’t sure if he should take it out or not. It was possible that the glass was the only thing currently keeping him alive.

With a deep breath he chose to leave it in and forced himself to his feet, yelling out in pain as he did so. His head spun with pain and blood loss. He blinked and breathed hard until his vision cleared enough for him to begin walking. One hand remained around the glass and his other grasped his wand as his feet dragged him through what remained of Zonko’s Joke Shop, glancing at the burning Tomes and Scrolls where three dead Durmstrang students lay on the ground.

He stumbled into the street, narrowly missing being run over by a group of crying and screaming Beauxbatons girls.

“Potter!”

He spun around, wincing, at the shout and found himself facing three masked Death Eaters. He tightened his grip on his wand, wishing he could’ve just made it back to the castle.

“Poor little Potter, all alone,” one of them said and then giggled.

Without warning, the Death Eaters began to send curses at him. He responded as quick as he could, attempting to read all the curses coming his way in order to better retaliate. With his wounds, however, he knew he wouldn’t last very long. He was already tiring and getting dizzier with each moment.

Where were any teachers or Dumbledore?

“ _Bombarda_!” he yelled, casting the curse at the ground in front of the Death Eaters, causing a cloud of dust to engulf the Death Eaters and a rain of dirt and cobblestone to fall. As they screeched in anger, Harry did his best to turn and take off running. He wasn’t moving nearly fast enough, though, so, instead, he dove behind a pile of rubble that was from the now crumbling Gladrags. He hissed as the rough movement jostled the shard in his abdomen.

“Potter!”

“Our lord will rise again and this world will be ours!”

“You will perish!”

Harry closed his eyes and leaned against the scorched wood pile behind him. His chest was heaving with pain and fear. With his injury, there was no way he would make it back to the castle. He had no idea where Dumbledore and the Hogwarts staff was. His eyes burned at the thought of how much trouble he was in, how much help he needed. Whenever he needed help there was never anyone there to give it. Except Ron. Ron was always there.

His arm flew up to cover his face as the street beside him exploded and a body flew up. He jumped violently when the body landed at his feet and then felt his heart stop completely when his eyes met the wide, terror-filled blue ones in front of him. His eyes travelled over the familiar face and body, taking in the blood running from the temple and the jaggedly slit throat. Tears filled his eyes and his heart began to pound painfully.

“Ron?” he whispered, pushing himself forward and shakily reaching out to lightly touch his best friend’s pale face. “Ron?” he said a little louder, shaking his friend.

“Harry Potter! I will deliver you to our lord!”

Harry didn’t hear the yell. He couldn’t look away from Ron and the tears were now pouring down his cheeks. He shook Ron more vigorously, sobs rising up in his throat.

“Ron…Ron!” he shouted desperately, feeling his heart shattering. “ _Ron_!”

He looked up when he heard a scream and found Hermione standing there, her eyes wide and her hands over her mouth. He moved his attention back to Ron, meeting the blank blue eyes again and his hand fisting Ron’s shirt. He was so distraught that he failed to hear the Death Eater’s shout or feel the curse approaching him.

“Potter!”

Suddenly black clad legs were beside him and he was protected from the brutal Cutting Curse that would have hit him in the throat. He managed to look away from Ron and found it was Snape standing next to him, found it was Snape that had protected him. He tried to say something, anything, but nothing came out except more tears and sobs. He just watched as Snape knelt down next to him and accepted the Potions master’s hand on his shoulder while the man’s other hand reached out and gently closed Ron’s eyes.

Harry choked on a violent sob and, not possessing the capacity of thought, threw himself at his professor, burying his face in the man’s chest even as one of his hands continued to cling to Ron.

Snape tensed at the initial contact and looked down at his most hated student uncomfortably. He had no idea what to do. How was he supposed to comfort anyone, let alone Harry Potter devastated over his best friend’s death? Still tense and unsure, he brought his arms up and rested one on the boy’s back and the other on the messy head. Potter heaved against him as he sobbed for his friend and it pulled at even Snape’s dead heart.

Potter let out another primal scream of anguish, making Snape jump slightly and then, shockingly, tighten his hold on the child. He found his fingers burying themselves in the black hair and his other hand began to gently rub the boy’s back. He looked over his shoulder when he remembered he was not alone. Dumbledore was standing in front of the other staff members, his eyes pained. Sprout, Sinistra, and even Flitwick had tears streaming down their cheeks. Hagrid was sobbing as well and McGonagall was clearly holding back as she held the crying Granger.

Snape turned his head back, his eyes settling on the dead student and his chest ached. He unconsciously pressed his cheek to the side of Potter’s head, letting his eyes close as he acknowledged his own pain and sadness at the death of Weasley and listening to the heartbroken Potter in his arms.


	5. Chapter 4

Harry hardly blinked, staring straight ahead as injuries were treated. He barely noticed when the glass shard was pulled from his side. He took potions without question or protest. He didn’t say a word to anyone. His eyes never looked at any of the others around him. He couldn’t form a single thought past Ron. His throat was so tight, his eyes wouldn’t stop burning, and his chest felt like it would explode.

He couldn’t bring himself to believe it. Ron couldn’t be dead. Ron was all he had, Ron and Hermione. They were the only family he had, the closest he would ever get to the family he so desperately wanted. Ron couldn’t be gone. He couldn’t lose his best friend. It was Ron; Ron was always there for him, was supposed to be by his side forever.

He was far too distracted by thoughts of Ron that he didn’t even notice when he was led out of the Hospital Wing and into the dungeons. He was brought into all-too-familiar rooms but he had no reaction. He sat rigidly in the same chair, staring blankly into the same flames. They provided no warmth, no solace, no comfort. The professor shifted and spoke.

“Talk to me.”

A single tear rolled down Harry’s cheek.

“He’s dead.”

More tears fell. He didn’t think he would have been able to say it out loud so soon, didn’t think he’d be able to admit it. It hurt so much more than he ever thought possible to admit it. He’d never been in so much pain before and he’d had his fair share of pain. Ron was dead, he was gone. A sob bubbled up in his throat and he tried to suppress it, but it was impossible. He quickly dissolved into tears again, pulling his knees up to his chest and burying his face in them.

He was alone again. Ron was gone and he was alone. He was always left alone. How could he have lost his best friend? The year was already so terrible, Ron was the one thing helping him get through it all. How was he supposed to do it now, on his own? He couldn’t do it alone; he didn’t _want_ to do it alone.

He jumped when a hand landed gently on his arms wrapped around his legs. He raised his head just enough to peek over his knees at Snape who was crouched in front of him. He searched the man’s black eyes but they were completely unreadable. Maybe not completely for there _was_ something familiar in the eyes but he couldn’t identify it. Whatever it was helped ease his despair minutely and he once again found himself embracing his horrid Potions professor. This time it was less tense despite their usually violent relationship and was not as anguished as it had been in Hogsmeade. Harry’s arms wrapped around the professor’s neck while the man’s arms came around his midsection.

In the moment, as they held each other through Harry’s grief, they knew something between them and in their relationship, had shifted and changed.

After quite some time, the two finally parted. Harry dropped his arms in his lap and lowered his eyes in embarrassment and in an attempt to stop his still steadily flowing tears. Snape’s arms had also pulled back but his hands were still resting on Harry’s knees.

“You’ll get through this, Potter,” Snape said quietly.

Harry sniffed, wringing his hands together. “How? Ron-Ron’s…I can’t, not without him.”

“You can,” Snape said firmly.

“But he’s…”

“I know and you mourn and grieve as long as you need to, but do not give up on your own life in that grief. It is cliché but it is wise to consider that Mr. Weasley would wish you to continue on and be happy,” Snape said. “He will help you through this.”

“He can’t,” Harry said, his voice dropping to a whisper as he looked down at his lap again.

“One does not have to be a ghost to still be with us after death.”

Harry looked up at him again, his eyes full of tears and his face of grief.

“I…will also help if I can,” Snape added, gaining a shocked look from the boy. “I know what it is to lose someone you love.”

Some more tears fell and Harry bit his lip against the pain and as he considered his next question. It would be completely unorthodox and totally bizarre given their history. But he couldn’t face, well, any of it. He wanted a night to cope on his own without the heavy weight of the empty dorm bed.

“Can-can I stay here tonight?” Harry asked quietly, almost mumbling. He refused to look at his professor, terrified of the anger and rejection that would be before him.

Snape’s eyebrows flew up at the question but it was his only response to the boy’s unexpected request. It was completely out of the blue and even a little inappropriate seeing as they were student and teacher. He should really refuse and send the boy back to the Tower. Plus, did he really want _Harry Potter_ infesting his quarters all night where he could cause only Merlin knew what kind of trouble and damage? He paused his thoughts and gazed at the boy in front of him.

The child was folded almost completely in half in the chair, an effort to hide himself away and block out the world. His face was red and puffy and surely permanently stained with tears at this point. He was biting his lip hard as he continued to sniff and his hands spun together in his grief and anxiety. The boy looked absolutely destroyed and sending him back to the Tower where he would have to face the other Gryffindors and Weasley’s bed would not help.

“It’s okay, sir, I’m sorry,” Harry started, assuming his request was being refused.

“You may stay the night,” Snape said and Harry’s head flew up to look at him with wide eyes. “You can sleep on the sofa, if that will suffice.”

“Th-that’s fine, Professor,” Harry said, startled he was being allowed to stay. “Th-thank you.”

Snape inclined his head. “The Tower may not be best for you tonight. The situation will be discussed further tomorrow.”

Harry nodded, not really caring. He wasn’t even thinking about tomorrow. He foresaw nothing but a bed—or, in this case, a sofa—in his immediate future. Everything else would just have to wait.

“I will prepare the sofa then,” Snape said and he stood, finally removing his hands from Harry’s knees. Harry frowned to himself as he found himself missing the contact instantly.

He pressed his cheek to his knee as he watched the professor put bedding on the sofa. The day and emotions were really beginning to catch up to him, and he was beginning to feel physically and mentally exhausted. It was getting difficult to focus and keep his eyes open.

“Here you are, Potter,” Snape said, stepping to the side of the most comfortable looking sofa Harry had ever seen. Granted, he was sure a tree trunk and a rock for a pillow would look comfortable at the moment as well.

“It looks great, Professor,” Harry said sincerely. “Thank you again.”

“If you feel ready for bed?”

“Beyond,” Harry said.

“Then I, too, am off. You are aware of where everything is and, should you need anything, you can come to me,” Snape said. “I will do my best to reign in my temper.”

Harry’s mouth twitched into a near smile. “You’re not so bad anymore.”

Snape’s lips also twitched but nothing more. He just cleared his throat. “Time for bed. I will see you in the morning, Potter.”

“Good night, Professor,” Harry said softly as Snape headed to the bedroom. He waited until Snape’s bedroom door closed before he moved over to the made-up sofa. He kicked off his shoes but kept everything else on, including his sweater, having been brought new clothes while he was in the Hospital Wing. As he pulled his legs onto the sofa and pulled the puffy comforter over him, he realized Snape had left the fire lit. He was grateful for it. Despite his clothes, the blanket, and the fire, he remained chilled and it was not going away. He could not seem to make any warmth enter his body. While the fire wasn’t providing him warmth in his current state, it was still a calming presence and a comfort. He took off his glasses and stared blurrily into the flames, allowing his mind to fill with memories of Ron in a bid to push aside the image of his friend’s body. The memories ran like a movie and eventually coaxed him into sleep.

* * *

_Harry looked around, spotting the familiar oak tree that sat on the Hogwarts grounds, the one they always sat under. It was out of place here in the otherwise completely open meadow. It wasn’t peaceful though. Clouds were hanging in the sky, casting dark shadows over the large area. While unnaturally dark, there was something else off about the entire situation but he couldn’t think of what it was._

_“Harry!”_

_Harry spun around at his name, at the extremely familiar voice. He would know that voice anywhere and he knew it was impossible for him to be hearing it now. He stared at the tree with wide eyes. His voice caught in his throat and his eyes burned when Ron stepped around the tree, smiling gently and his red hair blowing in the chilly wind._

_“Come sit, Harry.”_

_“This isn’t real,” Harry muttered._

_Ron shrugged a shoulder, inclined his head, and crossed his arms. “Real is relative when it comes to magic.”_

_Harry took a few steps closer to his friend and the tree. “What does that mean? You mean you’re—you’re not…”_

_Ron’s eyes grew sad. “No, I’m dead. That can’t be changed. I am so sorry, Harry.”_

_Tears filled Harry’s eyes and he looked at his feet._

_“Sit,” Ron said quietly._

_Harry looked back at him, tears streaming down his face. He stared at his best friend for a long while before he finally rushed forward and pulled Ron into a tight hug. He hadn’t actually expected to be able to touch Ron so it was overwhelming when Ron was solid and returned the embrace. He clutched onto Ron for dear life, holding so tightly and he never wanted to let go. Maybe they could just stay where they were forever. It wasn’t as though he had much to go back to._

_When thunder rumbled, Harry wasn’t aware but Ron was._

_“Can we sit now?” Ron said. “We’ll be safe from the rain under the tree.”_

_Harry finally pulled away and nodded slightly. Ron pulled him over to the tree and they made themselves comfortable like they always did at Hogwarts._

_“So what is all of this?”_

_“I’m here to help you,” Ron said, looking up at the dark sky as the rain began to fall. “You haven’t accepted my death yet and there’s a lot coming. Basically, I’m here to make you happy again.”_

_“I’m not sure I was ever happy,” Harry muttered. “And how can I ever accept that you’re gone? You’re not supposed to be dead. You’re supposed to be with me but now I’m alone.”_

_“Not as alone as you think you are,” Ron said. “Accept the others as they come. They’ll all help you in so many ways. And I will always be with you, even once these meetings end.”_

_“End?” Harry looked at him startled. He didn’t want the meetings to end. That would mean he’d never see Ron again. That couldn’t happen._

_“We won’t be able to do this forever,” Ron said. “Like I said, this is only until you’re happy.”_

_“I won’t be without you.”_

_“We’ll see.”_

_They fell silent and sat watching the storm continue to grow._

* * *

Harry’s eyes opened slowly, taking in the extinguished fire that had been roaring some hours before. He was still comfortably ensconced in the thick blanket the professor had given him. He felt so warm and comfortable and safe. He didn’t want to leave the sofa, regardless of the fact that it was still Snape’s quarters. It was as though nothing could reach him there and he didn’t want to leave that. He didn’t want to face the day, the first full day he would have to get through without Ron. He couldn’t do it, not yet.

He continued to stare at the smoldering embers, wishing he could just leave everything behind for a while. He didn’t want to see everyone, see their sadness or anger. He didn’t want to see the pity or blame. He just wanted to figure out how to cope on his own.

“Good morning, Mr. Potter.”

Harry peeked over the blanket and the back of the sofa to see Snape had emerged from the bedroom. It was surreal to see Snape in anything other than his strict black teaching robes, but he was standing there in blue cotton pants and was tying a dark green robe shut. It was strange but oddly comforting to know there was truly an actual person under the harsh teacher disguise. Not that he didn’t already know that. He _had_ been spending every week with the man for the last two months and things _had_ changed. He was pretty sure the hatred between them was gone. Ron had been right. He and Snape were learning to at least tolerate each other.

He bit his lip as he thought of how the professor had treated him the previous night. He would never get to tell Ron how…kind and even caring Snape had been since Ron’s death. Ron had been so supportive of him and Snape getting along and now he’d never get to see it.

“Sleep well?” Snape said, interrupting Harry’s thoughts.

“Under the circumstances,” Harry said with a nod.

“Good,” Snape said. “Would you care for some breakfast?”

Harry’s expression was full of surprise. He was sure the professor was acting oddly kind out of pity but Snape also didn’t seem like the type that would have pity for anyone. So, what exactly was going on? As he continued to think it over, he nodded to the professor.

“Yes, sir.”

Snape inclined his head. “Come along to the kitchen.”

Harry stood slowly but eventually followed the professor into the kitchen. Snape motioned for him to sit and they both did so. After a few seconds, food appeared on the table the same way it did in the Great Hall. Harry looked at the options, feeling hungrier than he thought he would. He made himself wait, though, until the professor had filled his own plate, ensuring he did not forget such an important rule.

Snape, however, noticed the action and frowned. Deciding to test before speaking, he acted as though he had chosen all he wanted. After a few seconds the child finally began to fill his plate. Casually, Snape reached out and grabbed the bowl of fruit. As he expected, Potter instantly stopped serving himself until well after he had replaced the fruit bowl.

“Habit of yours?” he said casually as he began to eat.

The boy looked up at him, startled. “I-I don’t— “

“Calm down, Potter, I was simply inquiring,” Snape said and Harry blushed back down at his plate.

Harry poked at his food, wondering if he should say anything. Eventually he shrugged a shoulder and said, “Just something my relatives taught me. My uncle thought it respectful that I wait for them to serve themselves first.”

“I see,” Snape said, taking a bite of his breakfast. “Does your uncle have many rules?”

“A few,” Harry said vaguely.

Snape hummed and they continued to eat in a strangely comfortable silence. They had both finished eating by the time Snape spoke again.

“You do not have to concern yourself with going to the Tower or anywhere else for the next two days. I have already contacted the headmaster and Professor McGonagall and have informed them of your whereabouts and need for time. They completely understand but you are to discuss it with them if you feel you need more time away from the Tower or classes.”

“Oh, uh, thank you, sir,” Harry said, not expecting such a thing to be done for him, especially by Snape. “I was hoping I could stay away from the Tower for a little longer and everyone else. I can’t face anyone, not yet, not even Hermione.”

“Which is completely understandable and acceptable,” Snape said, bringing their dishes to the sink. “This is an extremely traumatic situation for you.”

Harry’s eyes burned as the image of Ron’s body entered his mind once again.

“You are welcome to stay here if you wish or you can find somewhere else you would like to stay.”

Harry sniffed and fought to keep his tears at bay. “I-I’d like to stay. Thank you, sir.”

Snape nodded his head. “You may summon a house elf to retrieve anything from the Tower and you may read anything from the bookshelf in the sitting room.”

Harry nodded, trying but failing to smile. “Thank you.”

“I will be in my study, the door next to my bedroom, if you need anything.”

“Yes, sir.”

With that Snape left the kitchen for his study and Harry returned to the sitting room after getting himself a glass of water.


	6. Chapter 5

Harry stood at the door of the Potions office, contemplating what would be waiting for him outside the rooms he had found solace in for the last few days. He didn’t want to return to classes, to the students, to the Tower, but he knew he had to. He couldn’t hide in Snape’s rooms forever. He had to face it all sometime. Hiding didn’t change the fact that Ron was gone and the world was still spinning, life was still going on.

“Scared, Potter?” Snape said casually, coming up behind Harry. Harry briefly flashed back to second year and dueling Malfoy who said the exact same thing. Except Malfoy’s version had been cruel and taunting. Snape just sounded curious and possibly even a touch worried.

Harry snorted to himself. Like Snape would be worried about him. Their relationship hadn’t changed that much.

Had it?

“A little,” Harry finally admitted. “Although, I don’t know if it’s so much scared as it is…”

“Lost?” Snape suggested and Harry looked up at him, nodding. “I am sure you will find support somewhere. You have lost a dear friend but you are not alone. You still have many others.”

“Maybe. I haven’t been too popular since I became a Champion.”

“You’ll be surprised how much tragedy can bring people together,” Snape said and Harry found himself wondering, not for the first time, who the professor lost that had given him such experience in Harry’s situation. “You are close to being late. You should go.”

“Right.” Harry stopped with his hand on the door handle, a question forming in his mind. Would he ever be allowed back? Did he want to come back? Were their weekly meetings still on?

“Be here Thursday as usual unless you feel the need to come before then. You are welcome to hide down here.”

Harry smiled slightly at the offer and implication that he would need or want to hide. “Thank you, sir.”

Snape just inclined his head. “Go, Potter. Delaying will only make it harder.”

Harry nodded and finally walked out into the corridor. It was like a breath of fresh air as he hadn’t seen anything except Snape’s rooms for nearly four days. Not that he was complaining. He was grateful for the time to be alone and for Snape allowing him to stay, but it _was_ nice to get out. He took a deep breath, hitched his bag that house elves had brought him onto his shoulder, and slowly walked out of the dungeons. It was still breakfast so mostly everyone was still in the Great Hall, allowing him to head to Charms with very little interaction. He received stares from the few students in the halls that were heading to class as well, but no one tried to speak to him.

He was relieved when he pushed open the Charms room door and found the classroom still empty. He quickly found his seat and dropped heavily in the chair. After steading his breathing and trying to rid his body of some tension, he pulled out his Charms book and began to read the next chapter to try get a head’s start on the next lesson.

Unfortunately, it wasn’t long before students began to shuffle in, each one stopping in the doorway to stare at him wide-eyed for a few moments. When Hermione appeared, he did his best to give her a smile but she just turned from him and sat in the seat right by the door and next to Parvati Patil. Harry frowned but didn’t have much time to dwell as Professor Flitwick first approached him with condolences and offers of extensions on assignments before beginning the lesson. Distracted, he failed to see the Slytherin that continued to watch him with grey eyes.

* * *

The same treatment continued throughout Transfiguration, Care of Magical Creatures, Defense, and even lunch. Everyone stared at him, giving him wide eyes with any number of emotions in them. Each professor offered him their sorrows over Ron and then provided him with the option of gaining extensions for his school work. Worst of all, Hermione continued to ignore him, never once sitting with him in classes and leaving him to sit alone except in Transfiguration where Neville sat with him, but only because he had no other choice.

When dinner time came, Harry dropped down at Gryffindor table and felt his heart break a little when each Gryffindor very obviously moved as far away as they could. He sighed sadly and poked at his fish, resting his head in his palm as he propped his elbow on the table. He didn’t notice when a handful of people were suddenly sitting around him.

“Hey, Harry.”

He looked up to find the Weasley twins, Lee Jordan, Neville, and Ravenclaw’s Luna Lovegood had joined him. They all looked extremely drawn, of course, but not nearly as destroyed as the twins. He was surprised they were still at Hogwarts as Ginny had gone back home for a while. They looked awful, like they hadn’t slept or stopped crying for days. He probably wasn’t far off.

“How are you?” Neville asked.

“As well as I can be, I suppose,” Harry said with a small shrug.

“Where have you been staying?” Lee said.

“With Snape actually,” Harry said, noting their surprised looks. “He was actually really great. He helped a lot.”

“He’s not so bad,” George said quietly.

Harry nodded slowly. “Ron was seeing that even before me.” A brief silence fell. “I’m so sorry about Ron. I can’t even imagine what this must be like for you.” He bit his lip in a futile attempt to stop his coming tears.

“Sure you can,” Fred said.

“He was your brother too,” George said quietly and Harry’s resolve broke, tears pouring down his face and sobs bubbling out.

He tried to keep quiet, remembering he was still in the Great Hall surrounded by students and staff. His attempts were failing, however, as he buried his face in his hands, vaguely feeling the hands placed on his back. Images of Ron flashed through his mind, making him break down further. Though he was almost completely disjointed from himself he still managed to tune into the new voice.

“Follow me.”

“What do you want, Malfoy?” he heard Fred say.

Malfoy was there? How humiliating.

“Thought I’d give you somewhere to go so you can grieve alone rather than having the entire Hogwarts population watch.”

“Let’s go,” Harry choked out and, after a few moments, Harry, the twins, Neville, Lee, and Luna stood to follow Malfoy out of the Hall. They walked for a while, heading to the seventh floor where Malfoy eventually stopped them to pace in front of an empty wall. Slowly a door materialized in the stone, stunning Malfoy’s companions.

“C’mon,” Malfoy said quietly and entered the room, the others slower to follow.

They found themselves entering a cozy little sitting room. The floor was carpeted with a deep auburn carpet. A large poufy sofa sat in front of the small fireplace, the sofa a calming navy blue. In another corner, a few blue lounge chairs made a circle in front of a large window that showed a view of the Quidditch Pitch. It was really a tiny room but it was also comfortable.

“Welcome to the Room of Requirement,” Malfoy said.

“That’s what this is?” Fred said, shocked. Malfoy nodded.

“We’ve always looked for this place,” George said.

“I know some things,” Malfoy said with a shrug.

“What is this place?” Harry asked quietly.

“Room of Requirement,” Malfoy said. “Gives you anything you need. Just pace three times in front of the wall, thinking hard about what you need. Now you can use it whenever the Astronomy Tower isn’t available.”

With a small smile, Malfoy left the room, ignoring their calls for him to stay. Confused about the young Malfoy’s actions, the six of them eventually spread out, varying between sitting in silence and quietly talking.

* * *

Harry entered the Great Hall again a couple days later, determined to talk to Hermione who had continued to ignore him. The First Task was only days away and he wanted the support of his friends especially now he didn’t have Ron. He didn’t have much left without Ron. He quickly spotted Hermione sitting at the closest end of Gryffindor table with Ginny and made his way over.

“Hermione.”

“Go away,” Ginny spat. He didn’t miss how red and dull her eyes were. His chest ached at the sight. “We don’t want to talk to you.”

“Hermione,” he repeated.

“She doesn’t want to talk to you,” Ginny said, glaring at him.

Harry ignored her. “You can’t even talk to me yourself? You have to have Ginny do it?” He didn’t react to the noise of protest and angry look that came from Ginny. “Why won’t you talk to me?”

“Because it’s your fault!” Hermione finally shouted brokenly, swinging around to face him and getting to her feet. Harry’s eyes widened at the sudden outburst. “You are the reason Ron’s dead! He was with you! You-Know-Who is after you so his Death Eaters are too! They attacked the village to get you! You killed him! _You killed him_!”

Harry took a step back, staring at Hermione’s angry, tear-streaked face. He felt his eyes burn. Tears were on their way and his heart pounded painfully as he took her blame.

Her face suddenly hardened and the look in her eyes behind the tears was pure hatred. “It should’ve been you. I hope this tournament is your death,” she said quietly but still loud enough for the entire silent Hall to hear.

As Harry stood frozen in shock and internal agony, Ginny rose and, with a hateful glare of her own, led Hermione out of the Great Hall. Silence reigned for a few moments as everyone stared at the shattering Boy Who Lived. Soon, though, noise started up and Harry was anguished to realize the shouts were students agreeing with all Hermione had said.

Their comments swirled around his head and their furious, hateful glares were burned into his eyes. He felt the tears begin to finally pour down his face. More shouts joined in and he tuned in just enough to hear the new noise was defending him. However, the side agreeing with Hermione remained louder and he couldn’t help but hear all they said.

“Your fault!”

“You killed your best friend!”

“It should have been you!”

“You should’ve died!”

“No one wants you!”

“ _It should’ve been you_!”

 _It should’ve been me_. The single sentence flew around his head.

Through the tears, his eyes found their way to the staff table. McGonagall had a hand over her mouth and her eyes were wide, like Flitwick’s. Moody was staring hard at him with both eyes, bringing about the unease again. Hagrid’s face was full of pain and he had a couple tears on his cheeks. Dumbledore, like Moody, was just staring at him with a hard expression. There was no twinkle in his eye and his lips were pressed thin with some kind of emotion. Karkaroff was sneering but there was also a small smirk in it.

He finally found Snape. He was unreadable as always but he was staring at Harry as well. Snape’s face was tight but the black eyes were different. There was no rage, no disgust, no hatred. There was something else but Harry found he was no closer to identifying it. He registered the nearly imperceptible nod Snape gave and it made him finally turn to leave the Hall. He pushed through the door and it was only once he was gone that he heard Dumbledore finally order silence.

Sniffing and his heart breaking, he slowly walked into the dungeons. He navigated the corridors, passing the Slytherin common room. A sob fell out as the memory of their Polyjuice foray into Slytherin territory in second year made an appearance in his mind. More tears fell and he pushed on, crossing his arms tight across his chest as though he would fall apart.

They didn’t have a meeting that evening. It was only Tuesday. However, he had said Harry could come back before Thursday and there was his little nod in the Great Hall. Would he even be there yet? He was still in the Hall when Harry left.

His musings were answered when the office door opened, revealing Snape. “Come in,” the Potions master said quietly.

Harry walked into the rooms and sat once again. While it wasn’t officially a meeting, they both wondered if the meetings were even effective, if they had any use or validity at all. He, however, was beginning to like them a bit. They were becoming an outlet and escape.

“How are you?” the professor asked.

Harry blinked at the fire.

“She hates me.”

There was a brief silence.

“She is grieving,” Snape said. “If she had truly been a friend, she would not have said such things and would not be using you as an outlet for her grief.”

“She’s not wrong.”

Snape looked at him sharply.

“It is my fault,” Harry said. “The Death Eaters were there for me; they’ll always be after me. He died because he was my friend and with me. I killed him.”

His crying increased. The ache in his chest eased slightly only to be replaced by dullness and emptiness.

“It was not your fault, Potter,” Snape said. “It was an unfortunate tragedy. He could’ve died no matter what because he was in the village during the attack.”

“They wouldn’t have attacked if it weren’t for me. They’re after me. I should’ve died on Halloween then Ron would still be alive.”

“Potter.”

Harry looked at him with a heartbroken sardonic expression. “Don’t worry, sir. I’m not suicidal. Contrary to popular belief and everything I have gotten myself into, I don’t actually want to die.”

“This was not your fault and no one has a right to blame you,” Snape said. “You deserve to be alive.”

“I might not be for long, not with this tournament,” Harry said, wiping away some tears. He stared down at his hands. “I have no idea how I’m supposed to survive. Maybe it’s best I don’t, given how Hermione and everyone else are thinking of me.”

“You just told me you did not want to die.”

“I don’t but that doesn’t mean I shouldn’t,” Harry said. “Nothing but bad things have happened since I started Hogwarts. So many students have been hurt. Maybe it’s better I just disappear. No one wants me around anyways.”

“I find that hard to believe,” Snape said. “There will be some that still support you. You simply have to find them.”

Harry huffed. “You were in the Great Hall, sir. You saw what happened.”

“Dimwitted pack mentality,” Snape said dryly, gaining a small snort of amusement. The professor sighed as he regarded his distressed—no, _depressed_ —student. While he knew the boy still had a few friends, nothing would replace the loss of Granger and especially Weasley. The boy really didn’t have anyone and that would not help stop his downward spiral into depression.

He took a deep breath, aware he was breaking many rules. “Potter, I am going to help you through this and the tournament. You _will_ survive.”

“Sir?” Harry said in surprise, not expecting the determination in his professor’s voice.

“You can tell no one you know or that I told you this, understood?” Harry nodded, staring at Snape intently. “In the First Task, you must battle a dragon.”

Silence.

Harry blinked slowly, comprehending. “A…dragon?”

Snape nodded, folding his hands together. “You are required to retrieve an egg from a nesting mother.”

Harry stared at his professor for another long while. He had to fight a dragon? At fourteen? How was he supposed to do that? He had no one to help him. Ron would’ve helped come up with a plan. Not a good plan, by any means, but that’s when Hermione would’ve stepped in with a _real_ plan and then helped him prepare. But he had neither of them. They were the only reason he had survived anything the last three years. He didn’t think about anything, he just jumped in. He wasn’t powerful. He knew nothing about magic. He didn’t know how to plan. He didn’t know how to fight. He wasn’t even smart!

Tears filled his eyes once more at the thought of his lost friends. He needed them so much. He had no one.

“Potter?” Snape said, startled at the rapid appearance of tears in the boy’s eyes.

A couple tears fell. “How am I supposed to defeat a dragon? I can’t even perform a Summoning Charm!” He proceeded to bury his face in his hands as more tears fell and his shoulders shook.

Snape looked at the sobbing boy, unsure. While their relationship had clearly improved a little since the start of the year, they still weren’t on the best terms. They still had a lot of history, they both had secrets, they both had tempers, they were both stubborn. They clashed in all the worst ways and it would take more than a few weekly meetings to mend it all.

As such, Snape really wasn’t sure what to do. He hadn’t expected the revelation to drive Potter to tears, though maybe he should have with how unstable the child was since Weasley’s death. How was he to approach this? The grief was easy. Like him, Potter didn’t like to talk while grieving so he knew he could just be silent company. This, however, he knew the boy needed _something_.

“I don’t want to die,” Harry suddenly whispered and Snape’s stare hardened.

“Potter, you are not going to die,” he said firmly. “You will do this task, this tournament, and you will survive.”

The boy raised his teary eyes. “How? How am I supposed to do this at fourteen with no one? I don’t know enough; I’m not _good_ enough.”

“I never want to hear that again, understand?” Snape said sharply. “You _are_ good enough. You have talent, you simply have to utilize it to your advantage in the situation.”

“What am I supposed to do?” Harry said, wiping away another tear.

“Think of what you are good at and find a way to use it,” Snape said. “I will help you once you have a plan.”

“Really?” Harry said, shocked as he wiped at another tear.

Snape nodded. “I will ensure you survive this.”

Harry swallowed thickly, filled with all kinds of swirling emotions. “Thank you, sir,” he finally said quietly.

Snape inclined his head in response. “Now, I want you to go and think about what you may be able to do. Come to me when you think you have a solid idea. Remember, tell no one I told you about the dragons.”

“Yes, sir,” Harry said and left the man’s rooms.

He paused in the corridor, contemplating. He didn’t want to go to Gryffindor Tower. He wasn’t ready to face them all after what happened in the Great Hall. He should really do what Snape said and try to formulate a plan for the First Task. Knowing more about dragons could help as well. With that thought, he decided to go to the library.

He walked through the dungeon corridors and then up the Grand Staircase to the library. He was a corner away when he found himself being yanked into an alcove. He immediately went for his wand but quickly found his wrists tightly grasped by one large, scarred hand. He finally looked into the face, relaxing only minutely when he recognized Professor Moody. His stomach jumped and twisted at his proximity to the strange man. He frowned slightly as he took notice of a strange tick in which the man’s tongue poked out every few seconds. Did he normally have such a behaviour?

“What do you plan to do about your dragon, Potter?” Moody said and Harry’s frown deepened.

“My…what?” How did Moody know he knew about the dragons? He had only just found out.

“Your dragon, boy, the First Task,” Moody said, finally releasing Harry’s hands. “You’ve got a plan, don’t ch’a? The others do.”

“The others know too?” Harry said.

“Sure do. You’re late to the party,” Moody said, clapping him on the shoulder. “So, what’s your plan?”

“I-I don’t have one,” Harry said. “I don’t know what to do.”

Moody growled, his tongue continuing to dart out. “C’mon, boy, think! What’re you good at? What’re some of your skills? Transfiguration, Charms, curses?”

“No, none of those,” Harry said, shaken by the need to suddenly figure it all out instantly. “I don’t know! I can fly.”

“Damn well from what I hear,” Moody said, both his eyes looking at Harry earnestly.

“I don’t understand. How does that help me with a dragon?”

“You tell me.”

Harry frowned, his eyebrows coming together.

“Good luck, Potter,” Moody said and he suddenly clunked his way away from the alcove.

What was Moody trying to say?

The Auror was so odd and he did not like the feeling he got every time he was close to the man. He slid out of the alcove and bit his lip, wondering what to do. He wanted to continue to the library but he had a very small voice that was telling him to go to Snape.

He frowned at himself. What would he go to Snape for?

 _Tell him about Moody, the feelings you have around him_ , the little voice said. It had become clear, so clear that he actually spun around looking for Ron. His eyes watered as he realized when he was doing. He shook his head, blinking rapidly to clear the tears.

Getting control of himself, he headed into the library, deciding he’d rather have some quiet to contemplate things before having a big, uncomfortable discussion with Snape. He headed down one of the aisles, not immediately realizing that he was nowhere near the section on dragons. Instead he found himself at the back with books about magical wounds and scars. He blinked in slight surprise. Shrugging, he pulled a few down, including a book on other kinds of magical markings, and grabbed an empty table.

He flipped through the first couple, quickly finding they had nothing useful. The third, however, was a different story and he was soon reading a section.

_All magic leaves behind a magical residue and it is within this residue that one’s magical signature can be found. Magical residue allows for the tracking of a spell and also the determination of what was cast and how strong it was. When applying magical residue to an injury, however, it becomes more complicated as magical residue does not tend to attach itself to a living being._

_This does not mean it is impossible. It has happened in rare occasions. When magical residue attaches to a living being, it is most commonly after an extremely traumatic and violent exercise of magic that causes bodily harm, whether to the caster or a victim. In such a case, the residue becomes more palpable, acquiring some of the strong magical qualities of the caster. The magical residue latches onto an injury in an attempt to continue the initial and intended curse, to make the injury worse._

_Some wizards who have had magical residue attach to them have experienced pain in a scar that is years old. Once attached, the magical residue becomes something physical within the human host, usually in the form of some sort of external scar. Magical residue can be removed but only with the use of an extremely complex potion and a mix of intricate spell work._

_One must evaluate all possibilities behind a pained scar as a transfer and attachment of a soul fragment may be another possibility._

_Consult Demeter Mulligan’s_ The Soul Fragment _for further information._

“Soul fragments?” Harry muttered to himself, frowning.

It was possible to break a soul? How was such a thing done? Why would anyone do it?

Making a quick decision, he left the table and began to search for Mulligan’s book. He went up and down each aisle, looking carefully. As he got further and further, he felt his heart drop, thinking the book was not to be found. However, after a few more aisles, he managed to spot it on a top shelf, the silver letters of the title shining. He raised a hand and focused on the book, causing it to float casually down to him.

There was nothing to the cover. It was black. The title was in big block silver letters across the center. Demeter Mulligan’s name was in neat silver script at the very bottom, also centered. It was a fairly thick book and Harry wasn’t sure how to feel about there being so much information on such a topic.

Holding the book tightly, he hurried back to his table and sat down. He ran a hand over the cover, pushing the other books aside.

“Hey, Potter.”

Harry looked up, scowling at the approaching Malfoy. The Slytherin leaned on the back of a chair across the table from Harry and glanced down at the books. He raised his head with an eyebrow raised and a smirk.

“Extra credit?”

“Personal,” Harry shot back. “What do you want, Malfoy?”

“To make sure you don’t die like an idiot next week,” the blonde said.

Harry furrowed his eyebrows. “What are you talking about?”

Malfoy rolled his eyes. “The dragons, you moron. I’m here to give you your solution.”

“How do you know about the dragons?”

“Diggory and the half-giant aren’t exactly quiet. Diggory doesn’t know how to whisper and the half-giant just likes to brag, particularly to the Beauxbatons giant.”

Unwillingly, Harry shuddered alongside the Malfoy heir at the idea.

“So what’s this _genius_ plan of yours?” Harry snapped sarcastically.

“Actually it’s just the final step to the plan you’ve already been fed by the lunatic Moody,” Malfoy said. “Honestly, can you do nothing on your own?”

Harry glared. “Tell me already or leave.”

Malfoy sighed dramatically. “Fine. You plan to use your broom, right?”

“Uh…”

“Great,” Malfoy interrupted. “You’re only allowed to bring your wand so summon your broom.”

Harry blinked. “I can do that?”

“If you learn how to do the Summoning Charm in five days, then yes, you can do that.”

Harry groaned internally. The Summoning Charm just happened to be the spell he was not catching onto easily.

He narrowed his eyes at the Slytherin. “Why are you helping me?”

“Because there are some people that will be very upset if you’re mauled by a dragon.” With that, Malfoy pushed off the chair and began to walk away, but he stopped after a few steps. “By the way, I’m truly sorry about Ron.”

Harry stared in a mixture of confusion and surprise as Malfoy walked away, wondering if Malfoy had ever called Ron by his name before.


	7. Chapter 6

_Dear Sirius,_

_I don’t know if you’ve been getting my letters or not. I’ve sent a few now but I haven’t heard anything so I don’t know if Hedwig hasn’t been able to find you or if she’s been getting intercepted. I’ll try again and I hope to hear from you soon. A lot has been happening since my last letter._

_The Triwizard Tournament is happening this year, I think I’ve already mentioned that. Well, what I haven’t told you is that I’m a Champion. Somehow, someone put my name in and I was chosen. I have to compete and I am so scared, Sirius. This has to be the most dangerous thing I’ve ever gotten myself into since I started school._

_I’ve got some help though. The twins and Neville are being really helpful and supportive, which is more than I can say for pretty much everyone else. Oddly, Draco Malfoy has helped a little bit too. He’s changed this year, especially since…_

_Right, I haven’t told you yet. I don’t know if it’s been in the_ Prophet _or not. In any case, you should know. A couple weeks ago there was a Death Eater attack in Hogsmeade. Ron was killed. It’s been really hard and I miss him so much. It’s been even harder because Hermione blames me, a lot of people do. Sometimes I think they’re right but Professor Snape’s helped with that._

_I know you don’t like him but he’s actually been a lot of help since Ron died. He’s helping me with the tournament too. We still don’t get along all that well but it’s something and he really has been pretty great actually. Trust me, I’m surprised too. I never would’ve expected him to be on my side and helping._

_I have to go. It’s Ron’s funeral today._

_I hope this reaches you and that you’re okay. Answer soon._

_Harry_

He folded the paper, ignoring the couple of smudges from his few tears when he wrote about Ron. He was sure Sirius wouldn’t be happy hearing about his interactions with Snape or even Malfoy, but he felt they were important. Things were changing in his relationships with the two Slytherins and he wasn’t hating the changes. They were surreal, for sure, but it was all kind of…comforting.

“Harry.” He looked up to see Fred and George in the dorm door, serious and dressed in somber black. “Time to go.”

Ron’s funeral was finally being held after two weeks. Apparently, the wait had been because of Mrs. Weasley who, in her despair, had been refusing to have the memorial service. Based on that, Harry was sure the entire thing was Mr. Weasley’s doing.

He put his letter aside and followed the twins, straightening the black jacket Professor Snape had lent him. They joined the crowd moving through the Entrance Hall, all heading outside where the funeral was taking place. There was no casket as Ron’s body had been brought back to the Burrow to be buried in the family plot. Instead there were about half a dozen pictures around the podium where speeches would be given. Hundreds of chairs had been set up by the large oak tree at the Black Lake’s edge and the grounds were full of people. He was glad they were having the service outside. Ron would’ve hated a stuffy, inside affair.

He sat in the second row behind the entire Weasley clan, beside Neville, and a few seats to the right of Hermione. He and Neville gave each other sad smiles. Harry looked to his right at the other area of seats. They were filling up with the Beauxbatons and Durmstrang students. He found his eyebrows furrowing in confusion when, at the very back of the seats, he spotted Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy standing silently and watching the proceedings. He was surprised they had been let onto the grounds, let alone that they had come to the funeral at all.

Like everyone, as Harry was discovering, maybe the Malfoys needed a second look, maybe they weren’t what he had thought they were the last few years. He turned back when Dumbledore began to speak.

It was a touching event. Dumbledore gave a great speech that was followed by professors, a few students, and Mr. Weasley. Mostly everyone shed at least a few tears. By the end, each Weasley, Hermione, Harry, and most of Gryffindor house were crying steadily. Most expected Harry to say something but he refused. Between the anger over him being a Champion and those that blamed him for Ron’s death, he knew he wouldn’t be well received. Plus, he wanted to keep his memories of Ron between him and Ron as they were meant to be.

After some time, the service came to an end and everyone began to slowly move about. Harry stood and took a few steps only to stop and watch as Malfoy approached his parents. He had no idea what was being said but at one point Narcissa dabbed her eyes with a handkerchief, Lucius put a hand on his son’s shoulder, and Draco’s hand appeared to wipe at his eyes. Harry blushed and looked away when Lucius suddenly met his eyes.

He was about to continue on his way when suddenly Mrs. Weasley appeared in front of him. His heart and stomach lurched at the sight of her. He was sure he had never seen anyone look so haunted and destroyed. She looked worse than Sirius had in that horrible mug shot in the _Prophet_ last year. He was about to speak when his cheek was struck hard. His head remained to the side for a few seconds, his cheek stinging as he processed just what had taken place.

Tears filled his eyes and he turned his head to look at her again only to be struck once more. The tears spilled over as he found hands gently landing on his shoulders and pulling him back away from Mrs. Weasley, and against a solid chest. He glanced up at Snape and back to Mrs. Weasley who was being restrained and led away by Mr. Weasley and Charlie.

“Thank you for coming, Harry,” Mr. Weasley said quietly. “We know how much you must miss Ron. You were a great friend to him.”

“He was the best,” Harry whispered.

Mr. Weasley’s lips twitched into the ghost of a smile before he turned to follow his wife and second oldest. Harry felt a gentle tug on his shoulders and he allowed himself to be led through the crowds by the professor. He instantly blocked everything out though he was vaguely aware of Snape talking to someone and fingers ghosting over his hand. Soon they were back inside the castle and then he was being pushed into the usual chair. His gaze dropped to his lap as the sudden silence caused his focus to go to his burning cheek. He just sighed sadly, keeping his eyes down.

He hardly reacted when Snape knelt in front of him and pressed a nice, cool cloth to his cheek, easing the sting. The gesture and quiet gave him a moment to realize how far things really _had_ come. There would’ve been a time not too long ago when he would’ve taken every movement from Snape as a threat. Now he accepted the man’s help almost without question.

“It is not your fault,” Snape interrupted quietly, still holding the cloth against Harry’s cheek.

Harry met the dark eyes. They used to seem so harsh, angry, heartless, hateful…but they weren’t. They were calm, calculated, and other things he didn’t wish to name in case he was embarrassingly wrong. Whatever it all was, it was not the Snape he recalled dealing with in previous years. Something great had changed.

“I know,” he finally said and, as their eyes remained locked, they both knew something monumental had shifted in their relationship.

* * *

Harry growled loudly in frustration and threw his wand on the floor, dropping down beside it. The First Task was the next day and he was still failing miserably at the Summoning Charm. The twins, Neville, Lee, and even Malfoy had been trying to help him with it alongside Snape. Despite the help and practicing every spare moment, he still had yet to succeed in summoning a pillow from across the room, let alone his broom from Gryffindor Tower to the Quidditch Pitch. He ran his hands through his hair angrily, tugging slightly.

“What do you expect to accomplish down there?” Snape drawled and Harry glared at him. Some things between them had changed, yes, but Snape’s prickly personality and sharp tongue were not among them.

“Invisibility,” Harry spat. “Maybe I don’t have to compete if they can’t find me.”

Snape rolled his eyes. “You’ll need that cloak of yours to accomplish that.” Harry glared again. “If you are going to be forced to compete, why not attempt to do well?”

“Isn’t that what I’ve been doing with this stupid charm?” Harry said. “Besides, I’m more focused on staying alive than scoring big points.”

“A focus that may not amount to much if you do not learn this charm.”

“I’m trying!” Harry yelled and then sighed at the man’s sharp look. “I’m sorry but I really am trying. I just can’t seem to get it.”

Snape sighed himself. “Up. You won’t be any closer to getting it by sitting down there pouting.”

“I’m not pouting,” Harry said even as he grabbed his wand and got to his feet.

“I assure you, you are,” Snape said, moving to stand behind the young Gryffindor. “Now practice the wand movement a few times.”

Harry nodded and did so, moving his wand in the correct way over and over.

“Take a deep breath, relax.”

Harry did, closing his eyes briefly.

“Picture what you want, your intention, think of it clearly.”

Taking even, steady breaths, Harry pictured the pillow soaring towards him and put the image on repeat. Keeping the scene in his head, he focused on the pillow.

“ _Accio_ pillow!” he said, waving his wand.

Nothing happened. He felt his frustration rise again, but pushed it down, keeping his focus. He took a few breaths to calm himself.

 _You can do it, mate_.

“ _Accio_ pillow!” he said again and was shocked when he found himself having to catch the pillow before it hit him in the face. He stared at the pillow for a few moments before turning to look at Snape.

There was unmistakable approval in the man’s dark eyes and Harry found himself smiling.

“I heard Ron,” he admitted.

Snape hummed. “Still assisting you, I see.”

Harry smiled at him and nodded, his eyes slightly damp.

“Good. Now see if he’ll help you again.”

Harry chuckled and tossed the pillow back to where it had been. He readied himself again, regaining focus.

With a breath, he said, “ _Accio_ pillow!” and had to catch it again.

Snape’s lips twitched and tilted into what Harry knew was the man’s smile.

And so, Harry remained in Snape’s guest bedroom, summoning pillows, books, and even the man’s cloak to ensure he had the charm perfected.

He just hoped he would be able to make it work over a long distance.

* * *

Harry watched as the stands filled with the spectators of Hogwarts, Beauxbatons, and Durmstrang. He heard distant roars and knew it was the dragons. He sighed and stepped into the champions’ tent. The others were already there along with Barty Crouch who was talking in hushed tones with Dumbledore, Karkaroff, and Madame Maxime. He walked over to stand next to Cedric who gave him a small smile and nod of acknowledgement and luck.

There was no time to talk, however, as Crouch and the school heads came over, arranging the four champions into a circle. Crouch then went around with a small bag and they all chose their dragons, the lack of reactions reminding Harry that the others had already known what the First Task would be as well.

Harry’s eyes fell shut and his heart pounded painfully when the Hungarian Horntail landed in his hand. He had talked to Hagrid about dragons to gain more information and Hagrid, with no filter, naturally told Harry about the exact dragons being used in the task, ensuring he repeated just how dangerous the Horntail was compared to nearly all others. It should not have surprised him that he got the Horntail, not with his luck. His hope of survival had just severely dropped. He watched as all the heads left, noting that he never received even a glance from Dumbledore. Cedric approached the field entrance as the first champion to fight. Harry jumped at the cannon fire and, while he hoped for the success and safety of the others, also hoped that it would be a while before he went as he was to go last.

However, his turn came quicker than he’d hoped and he soon found himself stepping out into the field. He moved slowly, getting a look at his terrain and also hoping to spot his vicious opponent. Cheers around him eventually ceased, relieving him of the distraction. He looked up briefly, first spotting the twins among the Gryffindors, Malfoy in the Slytherins, and Snape with the staff. He felt his heart pound again as he recognized worry in the man’s eyes and even spotted fear in Malfoy’s face. The expressions gave Harry mixed feelings. He felt warm realizing there was an adult who cared at least a tiny bit about him. The looks confused him as well because he never would’ve taken Snape or Malfoy as the types to really care, especially not about him. Last, the expressions terrified him because he knew, normally, Snape would never let any amount of worry show.

He lost his time to consider it all any longer as screams suddenly erupted in the stands and he found himself being thrown through the air by a spiked tail. He landed on a far boulder hard, feeling his shoulder crunch slightly at the impact.

He just knew he would hear about that later from Snape and Moody for not being aware of his surroundings.

He looked up and found he was staring into the murderous eyes of his Hungarian Horntail. She was crouched low over her eggs, hiding them from the threat she perceived. His eyes widened and he scrambled up and behind the boulder as the dragon’s mouth opened. He knew exactly what was coming and winced as the boulder seared against his back. He dove forward when the tail came around and shattered his shield.

Seeing fire was coming his way again, he clambered to his feet and raced away, sliding down a small embankment as flames flew over his head. He remained still in his new but still temporary hiding place, trying to catch his breath and steady his fear-ridden heart.

He had no idea what he was doing. He had no idea how he was supposed to do this and survive. He was fourteen! He had just learned a Summoning Charm— _finally_ —barely twenty-four hours ago, and he was supposed to outsmart or defeat a dragon?

 _Wand, Harry_!

He glanced up even as he knew the voice was in his head and, for a moment, he could’ve sworn he saw Ron in the front of the Gryffindor stands.

Right.

He had just learned the Summoning Charm and he had done so for this specifically. He pulled out his wand and pointed in the general direction of the school.

He took a deep breath and shouted, “ _Accio_ Firebolt!”

He put his wand away and pressed himself against the small slope behind him, feeling it shake as the dragon searched for him, letting out menacing roars.

“ _Look out_!”

Several shouts shook him and he looked over just in time to see the Horntail peek around a giant boulder. He ducked and rolled as fire flew at him once again. It was as he was getting up that he spotted his broom zooming over the staff stands. He pushed to his feet, climbed onto a boulder, and jumped off right over top of the dragon, landing perfectly on his broom. He zipped around as her tail and fire followed him almost relentlessly. Despite her best, desperate efforts to burn him alive, she remained crouched over her nest. He thought fast and knew he would have to expect a hefty lecture from Snape for this.

With another deep breath, he flew lower and approached the Horntail’s face. He quickly pulled his wand again and hit the beast in the eye with a Stinging Hex. It roared, sending an unintentional ball of fire in his direction, but it had the desired effect and he took off with the dragon and its broken chain behind him.

They left the field and wound through the castle, taking out stone, shingles, statues, and even a few windows. Receiving a sharp hit on his arm with the tail, he flew off and nearly lost his grip on his broom, making him think he would be joining the crashed dragon in the lake. However, reminiscent of his quick moves in both first and second year when he almost fell off his broom, he swung himself up and headed, painfully, back to the transformed Quidditch Pitch.

Once there, he dismounted, fell to his knees in residual fear, relief, and pain, and simply rolled the golden egg towards him with his uninjured arm. He heard the cheers of the spectators and could hear the judge and announcer, Ludo Bagman speaking, but heard no specific words. He cared about nothing except that he was done and had survived.

* * *

Harry sighed tiredly as he awaited Madam Pomfrey’s treatment inside the medical tent. She was currently readying all she needed to treat the most injured champion, Cedric Diggory. While Harry just had a badly wrenched shoulder, several cuts, and very minor burns on his back, Cedric’s entire left side had received nasty burns. Even Fleur Delacour from Beauxbatons only had a gash on her arm and Viktor Krum from Durmstrang had escaped unscathed.

He looked around at the others as he waited, feeling small pangs in his chest. As Fleur waited, her little sister had joined her, helping her pass the time and ensuring her older sister was alright. Beside him, Cedric’s father was with his son. He couldn’t hear what they were saying perfectly but, from what he _did_ get, his father was beyond proud and loved Cedric so much.

He frowned sadly. There would’ve been a time when Ron and Hermione would’ve fought their way into the tent to be with him. Now…he sat alone. He had no one to sit with him and tell him they were proud or worry over his injuries. He couldn’t help but wonder if Sirius would be there with him if the man wasn’t on the run. Last year, he would’ve thought there wouldn’t be a doubt that Sirius would be there. Now, however, after all the unanswered letters, he wasn’t so sure.

So, he found himself very surprised when his curtain was pulled back and Draco Malfoy was standing there.

“What’re you doing here?” Harry said, frowning.

Malfoy shrugged. “Seeing if you were still alive. Knowing you, you would’ve survived a great dragon only to trip on a rock and crack your head open.”

Harry’s eyes narrowed but then he recognized the amusement in Malfoy’s face, and he gave a small smile. “Have to make sure I die stupidly so everyone remembers that the ‘Boy Who Lived’ was a total klutz.”

Malfoy smirked. “That’s a given if anyone’s ever seen you fly.”

“Like you’re any better. Second year ringing any bells?”

Malfoy scowled half-heartedly. “That Bludger was cursed and after you.”

Harry chuckled. “Cursed by _your_ old house elf.”

“That you tricked my father into freeing.”

Harry shrugged his uninjured shoulder, still smiling. “I wasn’t his biggest fan.”

“No one is,” Malfoy said and they both laughed.

“Alright, Mr. Potter, finally your turn,” Madam Pomfrey said, coming to his side.

“See you later, Potter,” Malfoy said and headed out.

“Malfoy,” Harry said before he left and the Slytherin turned around. “Thanks.”

Malfoy just gave a half smile and left.

Harry sat, gritting his teeth as Pomfrey forced his pained shoulder to move and hissed when she examined his burnt back. Though quite distracted, he still found he stared in shock when Snape came to his side.

“You’re here,” he said dumbly and Snape raised an eyebrow. He blushed and stuttered, “I-I mean, o-obviously you’re here. I mean, why, er, y-you don’t—“

“Ensuring you are not too badly injured after your stunts,” Snape interrupted.

“Stunts?” Harry repeated, outraged. He had been trying to stay alive!

“Losing focus and letting the dragon hit you. Getting burnt. Jumping _over_ the dragon onto your broom. Taunting it. Allowing it to chase you and nearly bring you into the lake.” Snape paused and looked at his student’s blush. “Yes, Mr. Potter, _stunts_.”

“Well, I finished the task,” Harry argued weakly, “and I’m still alive.”

“Indeed you are as, in spite of all of your stunts,” Snape trailed off again for a moment, “it _was_ well done.”

Harry’s jaw dropped and he gazed after the professor as the man headed out of the medical tent.

“See you tomorrow evening, Mr. Potter,” he said before disappearing outside.


	8. Chapter 7

Harry sighed as he sat at his empty desk in Defense. He pulled out his book and casually flipped through, his mind torn between the other book sitting in his bag and the mysterious golden egg in his dorm. If he had expected the egg to give all the answers to the Second Task, he had been horribly wrong as all it did was emit an ear-piercing screech when opened. He and Gryffindor house had not been impressed. As soon as he had returned to the Tower after the First Task, it was as though the last three months hadn’t happened. All the Gryffindors were now cheering for him and were now encouraging him to do well in the coming tasks.

He glanced over at Hermione. Well, not everyone.

He couldn’t help but shake his head at these people. They tried to call themselves friends but they turned around and hated him in seconds then supported him again. This was not friendship and he once again wished he still had Ron with him.

“Quiet!”

He looked up and closed his book when Moody hobbled up to the front.

“The Unforgiveables,” Moody snapped, writing the word messily in chalk on the board. “How many are there?”

Naturally, Hermione’s hand was in the air but Moody ignored her until Seamus’ hand joined hers.

“Yes?” Moody barked, gesturing at the Irish boy.

“Three, sir,” Seamus said.

“Three!” Moody shouted, making a few people jump. He put a one, two, and three in a vertical row and under ‘Unforgiveables’. “Why are they called such?”

He ignored Hermione, waiting for someone else. It took several seconds but eventually a Slytherin girl slowly raised her hand and Moody called on her.

“Because they can’t be forgiven, they are the most extreme magic, the worst of magic,” the girl said quietly.

“Right!” Moody said and Harry couldn’t help but wonder why the man was always on the verge of yelling. “If you use any of these curses, you go straight to Azkaban.”

Harry blinked in surprise. There were really spells bad enough to send you to Azkaban?

 _The Killing Curse that killed your parents that you survived_ , Ron’s voice in his head said. His hand drifted up to his scar briefly.

“Malfoy!” Moody shouted. “Give us one of these curses.”

Malfoy glared at the old Auror and, after a moment, said, “The Imperius Curse.”

Harry watched as a small amount of colour entered Malfoy’s cheeks even as the Slytherin continued to glare at Moody. He frowned, wondering what the interaction was about. After a few seconds, Moody turned and hobbled to his desk, pulling a large spider out of a jar. He made it grow even more and whispered, “ _Imperio_.”

The spider jerked and then, all of a sudden, it started to move with Moody’s wand. It hopped off the man’s hand and hopped from one end of the desk to the other. It then stopped and began to spin in a circle before flattening on the desk. With a flick of his wand, Moody sent the spider flying to Malfoy’s desk. Once there it slowly walked on and up the boy’s arm.

Harry could see he was trying not to react, keeping his eyes on Moody. Glancing back at the man, Harry noticed the small smirk on the disfigured face and he felt his stomach jump again.

“The Imperius Curse,” Moody said, moving the spider back to his desk. “Can make someone do anything you want them to. Many followers of the Dark Lord claimed to be under this curse but it is impossible to know if they are telling the truth.”

 _Dark Lord_? Harry thought to himself. _Not the usual way of referring to Voldemort_.

“Another!” Moody yelled in opposition to the quiet tone he had previously used. Astonishingly, Neville’s hand very slowly rose. “Longbottom!”

Harry saw Neville swallow thickly and he had a strange expression on his face. “The Cruciatus Curse,” he finally said quietly, almost sadly.

“Yes,” Moody mumbled and added louder, “The torture curse.”

He grabbed the spider and walked over to Neville’s desk, one row over from Harry and one desk behind. Harry turned to look. Hermione was at the same desk and he was sure he could see tears in her eyes. Moody put the spider down directly in front of Neville who looked almost scared at this point.

Moody raised his wand at the spider again and said, “ _Crucio_.”

The spider began to twist and contort while letting out an unearthly screech of complete agony. Harry winced at the sight and sound, and felt a jolt through his body at the mere idea of using or being under the curse. He glanced at Neville and was shocked to see the look of pure pain on the boy’s face, as though Neville himself was under the curse. The other boy was cringing, he was starting to sweat, and Harry could swear he heard a quiet whimper come from the other Gryffindor.

“Stop it!” Hermione suddenly shouted, a few tears falling down her cheeks. “It’s bothering him! Stop it!”

Harry was greatly disturbed to see Moody had been smirking again as he used the curse. With a glance at Hermione’s horrified, angry face, Moody finally cut the spell.

“The torture curse,” Moody said again. “A common tool of the Dark Lord’s and his followers. There was once a time, a very long time ago, that our very own Ministry would use this curse in interrogations. Of course, it is no longer used. Prolonged exposure can cause insanity and even death.”

The class was silent with a mix of curiosity and horror. Dumbledore could not have possibly approved the use of these curses, could he?

“One more,” Moody said, picking up the spider and looking around the room. Harry looked up and met both of Moody’s eyes steadily. The spider was placed in front of him, still twitching. “Perhaps you know the third one, Potter? You have experience with it as well.”

 _Don’t answer. Engage him as little as possible_ , Ron’s voice said.

Listening to the voice, Harry just shook his head without speaking.

Moody hummed and Harry felt his entire body tense in preparation for what he was expecting to come.

“ _Avada Kedavra_ ,” Moody hissed and the flash of green was a sight Harry knew he had seen before. His breath caught in his chest and his heart pounded painfully. He stared at the dead spider for a time before returning his hardened gaze to the Auror whose own eyes were glinting.

“The killing curse,” Moody said into the dead silent classroom. “Impossible to survive. Only one person in history is known to have survived it.”

Not one person even dared to breathe. The atmosphere was uncomfortably tense and thick. Harry knew everyone was just staring at him and Moody as they continued to stare at each other. When the bell rang, everyone jumped and raced from the room, many students nearly forgetting their bags in their haste. Harry was the last to leave, and as he did so, he felt Moody’s eyes continue to bore into the back of his head.

Once outside, he found himself shuddering involuntarily. He blew out a breath and began to head down the stairs. A little way down the staircase at one of the windows was Neville, standing there and staring out at the rain falling outside.

“Neville?” Harry said quietly and the other boy slowly raised his eyes to look at him. The other Gryffindor’s face was drawn and there was something haunted in his eyes. “Want to go to the room?”

Neville just nodded and they made their way to the Room of Requirement. They gained a room similar to the one Malfoy had asked for that first day. Theirs was smaller, however, with only two chairs and a small table in front of a fireplace that was blazing comfortably. They both sat in silence for a time as they just gazed into the flames.

“I live with my grandmother,” Neville finally said, still watching the fire. “Obviously you know that but I live with her because something bad happened to my parents. They were big targets of You Know Who like your parents. Death Eaters were sent after them one day and they were tortured. They were tortured for so long that they went insane. They are in St. Mungo’s and have been my whole life. They don’t even recognize me. They didn’t break though. They were so strong; they never gave up any important information. I want to make them proud.”

They allowed it to go quiet again as Harry processed what his friend had told him. Glancing over revealed that a fear tears had fallen down Neville’s face.

“They would definitely be proud,” Harry said. “Just keep doing what you’re doing and keep trying. They’ll always be proud of you.”

Neville gave a watery smile. “Thanks, Harry.”

Harry smiled back. “I can sort of relate.”

Neville looked at him steadily. “Must’ve been hard to watch that curse.”

Harry nodded. “I don’t remember that night, not really. I’ve just always seen green flashes in nightmares and I hear my mother screaming when Dementors are around.”

“M’sorry,” Neville said and Harry smiled slightly again.

“Me too.”

And they sat in silence, their shared experiences between them.

* * *

“How’re you feeling?”

Harry looked up from his book when Snape spoke. He shrugged slightly. “Alright, I suppose. Glad I survived, if that’s what you mean.”

“We are all glad you survived,” Snape said and Harry’s lips twitched.

“Even you?”

Snape rolled his eyes and gave a half-hearted glare. “Yes, even me, Potter.”

Harry chuckled quietly. “Didn’t think you’d actually admit it.”

Snape’s eyes narrowed. “Would you like to leave?”

“No, sir.” Harry sobered. “Sorry.”

Snape hummed. They were quiet for a time and, as Harry attempted to continue reading, he found his thoughts wandering. He began to think about the First Task and all the times he’d heard Ron’s voice. He knew he had been—was still—absolutely destroyed when Ron died, but should he really be hearing his dead friend’s voice? Hermione had said in second year that, even in the wizarding world, hearing voices was a bad thing.

“Professor,” Harry said and the professor looked up. “Is it a bad thing if I’ve been hearing a voice?”

“It would depend on many factors.”

“I’ve been hearing Ron regularly since he died.”

“When do you hear him?”

“Usually when I need some kind of help. He reminded me to use my wand in the First Task,” Harry said. “He also told me not to engage Moody in class when he showed us the Unforgiveables.”

Snape’s eyes sharpened. “We will return to your last point.”

Harry just nodded, confused.

“As for the rest, you can be assured that you are not mad,” Snape said.

“Hermione said once that it’s bad to hear voices, even here, like when I heard the Basilisk.”

“Neither of these cases qualify as the wrong kind of hearing voices,” Snape said. “In your second year, you were hearing a real voice. It just happened to be a voice only you could hear due to your ability to speak Parseltongue. In your current case, you have simply adopted your friend’s voice as your conscience. You suffered a great loss when Mr. Weasley died and you are, naturally, holding onto him in some way. It is not uncommon. I am sure you had his voice speak to you sometimes even when he was alive.”

“Yeah, that’s true,” Harry said. “Thanks.” He smiled a little.

Snape inclined his head and turned serious. “Now what was this you said about your last class with Professor Moody?”

“Oh, uh, nothing really,” Harry said with a shrug. “He taught us about the Unforgiveable Curses and showed them.”

“He performed them in the room?”

Harry nodded. “On a spider. He had a few of us name a curse and then he cast it on the spider.”

“Who named the curses?”

“Malfoy said Imperius, Neville said Cruciatus, and he wanted me to do the last but that was when I heard Ron. He told me not to answer and not to engage Moody,” Harry said.

“Unbelievable,” Snape muttered.

“Neville didn’t handle it well,” Harry said. “He told me about his parents.”

“And you?”

Harry shrugged again, flicking at a page in his book. “It’s not like I haven’t seen it before. That green light was the only thing I remembered from that night for most of my life. I used to dream about it every night. I saw it in a nightmare this summer too. I’m not sure what I felt when Moody cast it. Was…intense to see up close, in person what killed my parents.”

“I will have a talk with the headmaster about Professor Moody’s lessons,” Snape said.

“He said Dumbledore knows, that Dumbledore approved.”

“I will speak to the headmaster regardless. There is something off about Moody.”

“He’s sort of mental,” Harry said.

“Have respect, Potter. He is still your professor.”

“Sorry.”

“Tell me about this nightmare you had this summer,” Snape said.

“Oh, it was nothing. It was just a dream.”

Harry kept his eyes on Snape’s hoping the man would believe him and move on. After several seconds, Snape hummed and nodded. Something in Harry told him Snape didn’t believe him. He also had Ron telling him he should be telling Snape about the strange dream.

“Very well,” Snape said. “I think it is time for you to return to your common room. It is nearing curfew.”

“Have a good night, sir.”

“And you, Potter.”

* * *

_Harry blinked and looked around. He didn’t remember falling asleep but he must’ve while reading if he was back in the strange house he had first seen in the summer. He walked up the stairs again, stopping outside the door to once again observe the not-quite-human Voldemort, Pettigrew, and the strange man he didn’t know. He flinched and looked away when he watched the muggle caretaker die once again._

_He turned around to go back down the stairs when he found the dream had not ended in a flash of green the way it usually did. When he turned, however, he was no longer in the rickety old house but was now in a misty graveyard. He frowned, feeling his stomach sink. The graveyard was not a comforting place and he knew, deep inside, that something bad would happen there._

_He gazed around, spotting the large statue next to the inscribed tombstone. He stared, unsettled, at the statue that was a cloaked skeleton wielding a scythe. The face within the cloak was an angry looking skull with empty eyes and the hands that held the scythe had been carved into skeletal fingers. He guessed it was meant to be the grim reaper._

_He slowly approached the grave, straining to see past the mist to read what was inscribed on the tombstone._

_“Harry Potter!”_

_He spun around when he heard his name hissed out from somewhere in the dark. There was a quiet screech and the graveyard was illuminated by green light. He turned his head to the sky to see the smoky-looking Dark Mark floating above. He cried out when his scar burst with pain._

_He felt a hand on his shoulder and he spun only for the scene to change again and for the pain in his scar to stop abruptly._

_“Harry.”_

_Harry turned his head and found he was back in the meadow. Ron was still under the tree that was still the only relatively light spot in the entire meadow. The storm clouds that they had watched the last time had grown closer and darker. He made his way over to Ron and sat down._

_“That graveyard’s a bad place,” Ron said and Harry frowned._

_“Why?”_

_“Can’t tell you that but I wish I could,” Ron said._

_“I heard you during the First Task,” Harry said._

_“We were best friends,” Ron said with a smile. “Not strange I’d still hang around somehow.”_

_Harry chuckled. “Snape said something similar.”_

_“How’s that going?”_

_“Oddly good,” Harry said. “He’s changed or maybe I have. Whatever it is, he’s actually been a lot of help.”_

_“He’s certainly one to keep on your side,” Ron said and Harry looked at him in confusion. “You’ve got a lot to face, mate.”_

_“Trust me, I know.”_


	9. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH

Harry cringed and gave in, snapping the screeching golden egg shut. His ears rang in the aftermath of the screaming as he stared at the Black Lake. It had been a few weeks since the First Task and the Christmas holidays were only two weeks away. He had opened his golden egg a few times in hopes that it would change or he’d suddenly solve the riddle, but it only ever ended with him giving up and slamming the egg shut. He was no closer to figuring it out now than the first time he opened it. He blew out a frustrated breath, wrapping his arms around his knees.

“Potter.”

He looked up to find Malfoy approaching him. “What’re you doing out here?”

“Could ask you the same.”

Harry nodded at the egg. “Gave it another go. Decided out here was best so I didn’t deafen the entire school.”

Malfoy conceded the valid point. “Any luck?”

Harry shook his head. “Still the same insane screaming. It’s impossible to figure out, completely mental.”

Malfoy nodded. “Mental.”

Silence fell for a few moments.

“Are you okay?”

Harry turned his eyes back to the Slytherin, confused. “How do you mean?”

“Moody’s class a couple weeks back,” Malfoy said. “The Unforgiveables.”

“Oh, that,” Harry said, gazing at the dark water. “Good as I can be, I suppose. Can’t exactly describe it as lovely but not something I’ve never seen.”

Malfoy’s eyebrows furrowed. “You’ve seen the Killing Curse before?”

Harry nodded. “I used to dream about it from that night. For the longest time it was the only thing I remembered.”

Malfoy listened silently, horrified.

“Saw it recently, too, in another dream. A dream from this summer that I still keep having. Voldemort killing a Muggle caretaker.”

“Wait, what?”

“That one’s just a dream, though, I think.”

“Pettigrew was there?”

“And another man I—“ Harry stopped suddenly and looked at Malfoy sharply. “How do you know that?”

“My father told me,” Malfoy said and Harry’s eyes narrowed. “Pettigrew had come by and kept bragging about being the Dark Lord’s choice. He told my father about the death of a Muggle.”

Harry felt himself pale. “It wasn’t a dream?”

Malfoy shook his head slowly. “I don’t think so.”

“Merlin,” Harry breathed, turning to the lake. More silence fell as Harry processed the revelation. “What about you?”

Malfoy frowned at the random inquiry. “What about me what?”

“Moody’s class on the Unforgiveables,” Harry said. “Based on the way he acted, you have some kind of experience with the Imperius Curse.”

Malfoy sighed as he, too, admired the still water. “Have some, by extension.”

Harry was about to prod for more when he spotted a very familiar man heading their way. “Moody,” he whispered and Malfoy spun around. Harry watched as the Slytherin tensed and he frowned slightly. There was clearly some history between Moody and the Malfoy family.

“Botherin’ ye, Potter?” Moody growled.

“No, sir. We were just talking,” Harry said.

“Interesting,” Moody said, staring intently at Malfoy with his good eye. “From what I’ve heard, you don’t get on with Draco Malfoy?”

“Things change,” Harry said, slowly getting to his feet and unconsciously moving closer to Malfoy. “A lot’s happened this year.”

“You don’t stop being a Death Eater,” Moody said and Harry stiffened when he saw the man grab his wand.

“You’re mad!” Malfoy said.

“He’s not a Death Eater,” Harry said.

“On the way, considerin’ his father,” Moody said. “’Sides, you don’t know a Death Eater when you see one, Potter.”

Before Harry could ask what the man was talking about, Moody had waved his wand and Malfoy was suddenly a small white ferret. Harry’s eyes widened.

“Professor!” Harry shouted. “Professor, stop!”

Malfoy—the ferret—was now bounding up and down in the air, squealing with fear.

“Little taste of what happens to Death Eaters,” Moody snarled.

“Professor!” Harry yelled again. “He’s not a Death Eater! He’s only fourteen!”

“I’ve seen younger.”

“Alastor!”

Harry snapped his gaze over Moody’s shoulder and found McGonagall rushing towards them. Once there, she gasped at the ferret and immediately flicked her wand. The ferret disappeared and a fearful, disheveled Draco Malfoy took its place. Harry ran over and helped Malfoy to his feet, gazing at the clearly insane professor.

“Alastor, we never use Transfiguration as a punishment, particularly not on students,” McGonagall said.

“He was harassing Potter,” Moody said.

“That’s not true!” Harry argued.

“Regardless, there is no excuse,” McGonagall said. “Run along now, boys,” she added to Harry and Malfoy. They instantly headed inside, Harry snatching up his golden egg. Once inside, they stopped in the Entrance Hall and Harry turned to Malfoy.

“Are you alright?” Harry asked.

“I’m fine, Potter,” Malfoy said shortly. “Man’s a lunatic.”

“Yeah, he is.”

“I have to go. See you later,” and Malfoy disappeared through the door to the dungeons. Harry just sighed, wondering what the Auror’s deal was. He turned, intending to return to Gryffindor Tower, when he was intercepted.

“Potter.”

He looked at McGonagall. “Yes, Professor?”

“As a Triwizard champion, you are required to dance the opening dance at the Yule Ball.”

Harry sighed again. Right, the ball. Christmas day, the traditional Yule Ball was taking place. They were all being given dance lessons as it was expected, as the host school, that all Hogwarts students would make the best impression. As a champion, he _had_ to have a date and he had no idea who to bring. Nearly everyone, while fonder of him, was not fond enough to be his dance partner. He was not looking forward to the night.

“I am?”

“Yes, Potter. Have you found a partner yet?”

“Not yet, Professor.”

“Best get on it,” McGonagall said. “All eyes will be on you as the unconventional champion.”

“Yes, Professor.”

McGonagall sighed slightly. “I am aware this is the last thing you want to do after the loss of Mr. Weasley. You are only required to dance the first dance. After that, you have my permission to leave the rest of the ball.”

Harry found himself surprised. McGonagall was right. The ball was the last thing on his mind. Having just lost Ron and it being Christmas, dancing was not what he wanted to be doing that day.

“Thank you.”

With a small smile, McGonagall pat his shoulder and then walked away.

* * *

“Professor?”

“Yes, Potter?”

It was a week and a half later and Harry was back in Snape’s rooms for their meeting. Christmas was in mere days and he was no closer to…well, anything. His egg remained unsolved, he remained dateless, he was still depressed, and he still had no answers for anything else.

“What am I meant to do about dress robes? I haven’t got any.”

“You can order some through owl order from Madam Malkin’s,” Snape said. “She would only need your measurements.”

“I don’t know them,” Harry admitted, dropping his eyes to the book in his lap.

“You don’t?”

Harry shook his head. “I only got measured in first year when I first got robes. It wasn’t until this year that they needed to be adjusted and Mrs. Weasley just used a charm she’s used for all her sons’ robes.”

“You will need to go to the shop in person then. Perhaps Professor McGonagall would be available to accompany you to Hogsmeade this weekend. Madam Malkin was able to repair her local shop just enough to be of service for the ball.”

“Couldn’t you come?” Harry blurted out and his eyes widened. Did he really just as that of _Snape_? No way had their relationship changed that much.

“Me?” Snape said and fell quiet, contemplating his blushing student. Things had changed quite a lot between them and he would’ve had to be blind to miss the fact that Potter had some form of trust in him. Perhaps it was their meetings or, perhaps, it was simply the boy latching onto a constant figure in his grief and depression. Whatever it was, he knew it, and the boy, were fragile. “Very well. I have some spare time on Saturday morning.”

Harry blinked. “Really?”

Snape just nodded.

“Thank you, sir.”

With a small smile, Harry returned to his book. Snape attempted to go back to his lesson plan revision, but he found himself distracted by intrigue in the boy’s book. Potter had had the book in every meeting for several weeks now. He was curious what it was about.

“Potter, do you mind me asking what it is you’ve been reading all these weeks?”

“Hm?” Harry said, distracted before looking up at the professor. “Oh, it’s by Demeter Mulligan. It’s about cursed objects in the body or cursed areas of the body. I think, anyways. It gets complicated sometimes and I don’t always understand.” He found himself unconsciously waiting for some remark on his intelligence and inability to understand anything. However, it never came.

“Might I see the book?” Snape asked.

Harry blinked in surprise. “Sure.” He handed the book over.

“ _The Soul Fragment_?” Snape said, glancing up from the black book. “Why on earth are you reading this?”

Harry shrugged a shoulder, unsure if he wanted to tell anyone. “Just…personal curiosity, I guess.”

“Out of all the things to be curious about,” Snape said, handing the book back.

“Sorry,” Harry said, blushing slightly.

“Nothing to apologize for, Potter. There is no harm in reading. As long as it is only curiosity.”

Harry swallowed under Snape’s intense stare. “It is,” he said finally and Snape nodded.

“Have you found a special friend to bring to the ball?” Snape asked casually, returning to the previous topic.

“No, not yet,” Harry said. “I’ve got no one to ask. No one would want to go with me so I’ve got pretty limited options. I don’t even want to go in the first place.”

“It’ll be a hard day for you,” Snape said. Harry looked down sadly. “McGonagall has spoken to you?”

Harry nodded. “I can leave after the opening dance.”

“You may come down here if you wish. I intend on leaving as soon as I can as well.”

Harry chuckled quietly. “Impressed you’d be there at all.”

“Not much choice with Albus Dumbledore around.”

“True enough.”

“As for a date,” Snape said. “I’m sure you have a friend willing to attend.”

Harry frowned, wondering just who Snape was thinking of.

* * *

“Potter!”

Harry spun to see Cedric Diggory, of all people, running towards him. He frowned, confused as to why Cedric was speaking to him. The entirety of Hufflepuff house hated him. He figured Cedric did too.

“Hey there, Harry.”

“Cedric,” Harry said shortly. “What can I do for you?”

“You don’t have to worry. I’m not angry at you like most everyone else,” Cedric said. “I’ve also told my house to lay off.”

“Thanks, I suppose.”

Cedric nodded and an awkward silence settled over them. Finally, Harry sighed and broke it.

“What did you need, Cedric?”

“Have you figured out your egg yet?”

“Not yet.” Harry looked at him. “I suppose you have.”

Cedric nodded again. “Take a bath with it. The Prefects’ bathroom is a good one to use, its size and all.”

Harry furrowed his eyebrows.

“See you, Potter,” Cedric said with a smile and began to walk away. “Just take a bath!” he called back over his shoulder. Harry watched him go, thoroughly puzzled.

Shaking his head, he finished his trek inside the school from the owlery. There was still no word from Sirius even after he had sent off another letter a week earlier. He couldn’t understand it. He couldn’t figure out why it seemed Sirius no longer cared. He knew he should’ve expected it. No one _truly_ cared about him or wanted him. He tried not to wallow in such self-pity, though, as it wouldn’t do him any good. He sighed and shoved his hands in his pockets and pondered where to go.

“Luna,” he said in surprise as he rounded a corner and found the Ravenclaw girl. She was staring at one of the Christmas trees intently. He walked up beside her. “How are you, Luna?”

“Hello, Harry. I’m quite well, thank you. How are you?” Luna said in her soothingly dreamy voice.

“Alright, I suppose,” Harry said. “What exactly are you doing?”

“There’s some mistletoe on this tree,” Luna said. “I’m trying to spot a Nargle.”

Harry’s eyebrows rose. “What exactly are Nargles?”

“Funny little things that love to hide in mistletoe.”

“Ah,” Harry said even though the girl’s response only raised questions.

“Have you solved either of your pressing issues?”

Harry blinked. “Uh, well, I’ve got an idea for my egg. I don’t have any ideas for the Yule Ball.”

“Shame,” Luna said, still staring at the tree. “A girl would be lucky to go with you.”

“You think so?”

“Well, sure. None of what has happened has been your fault. You also fought quite valiantly against the dragon. Additionally, you have made a friend out of our harsh Professor Snape.”

“We’re not friends, trust me,” Harry said quickly.

Luna hummed. “Either way, good things will come amongst the bad.”

“I hope so,” Harry said. “I’ve been pretty overwhelmed with bad so far.”

“A change will come soon.”

“I’ll keep an eye out.” Harry glanced at the girl and found his mind lighting up. This had to be what Snape meant. “Luna?”

“Yes?”

“Would you like to go to the ball with me?”

Luna looked at him with a soft smile. “Me? Really?”

“Of course,” Harry said, returning the smile. “You’re a good friend and one I’d rather go with than anyone else.”

“How kind,” Luna said. “I think I would enjoy the party. Thank you for inviting me.”

“It’s really no problem,” Harry said. “With you, I might actually have some fun.”

“It’ll be a difficult day for you,” Luna acknowledged. “The first Christmas without Ron.”

Harry sighed and nodded. “Definitely won’t be the best of days.”

“Perhaps you could try think of all your good, happy memories with him,” Luna said. “It will still hurt but some happiness might make it through.”

Harry looked at her and gave a tight but thankful smile.

* * *

Harry tugged at his dress robes uncomfortably, staring at himself in the mirror. He did not want to do this. He’d rather stay in bed or hide in Snape’s rooms. It hadn’t been the greatest day all together. Not only was it the first Christmas without Ron, but he also hadn’t received anything from Sirius for Christmas. The lack of letters had already been so painful and this was just devastating.

He sighed. Not only was Sirius’ near abandonment bothering him, but he had had a nightmare again and he had an awful feeling in the pit of his stomach. He just knew something was going to go horribly wrong. Additionally, his dancing skills were atrocious despite the lessons they were all put through.

“Mr. Potter.”

He looked at McGonagall’s reflection in the mirror.

“It is time.”

Setting his jaw, he nodded and followed McGonagall down from the Tower. He couldn’t help but smile when he spotted Luna waiting at the bottom of the stairs. Her hair had been curled and left down to fall down her back and frame her face. She was wearing a lovely blue, knee-length dress with small cap sleeves. She wore her usual radish earrings and had a large, almost gaudy brooch on her chest. She looked lovely and just like his friend, and that’s exactly what he needed.

He approached her and she smiled.

“You look quite dashing,” she said.

“You look great too,” Harry said. “Thanks again for coming with me.”

“My pleasure,” Luna said. “I’m happy to make your evening slightly more bearable.”

“Champions, form a line, please,” McGonagall called and began pushing the Champions and their dates into the correct order. He found himself somewhat startled to find Hermione arm in arm with Viktor Krum and looking remarkable, far away from her usual conservative, scholarly appearance. He sighed sadly, missing his old friends.

Luna hooked her arm through his, pulling his attention from Hermione at the front of the line. He gave Luna another smile and straightened as the Great Hall doors opened. He and Luna were last to enter and it was hard to ignore the stares. He managed, however, by focusing on Luna and also, once they reached the dance floor, Snape. The man was watching him steadily yet calmly and he felt himself automatically relax somewhat. Everything between them was still so strange but he wasn’t questioning it quite as much anymore.

Harry turned, a little more relaxed, to Luna and took her hand and put a hand on her waist. She smiled brightly at him as they awaited the music. It started up suddenly and they were gliding around the floor with the others. It wasn’t as horrific as he thought it would be. He was actually almost smiling as he looked around at the other couples. Fleur Delacour had attended with the Ravenclaw, Roger Davies. Cedric had, naturally, invited his girlfriend Cho Chang who was also a Ravenclaw. It was the last that continued to surprise him the most. Viktor Krum and Hermione. They must’ve started talking recently and hit it off.

Despite everything, he was happy for Hermione. She deserved to have such special attention and to have it come from Viktor Krum was amazing. She looked happy and was clearly managing to move on.

As the music continued, other couples began to move onto the dancefloor. He laughed quietly as Dumbledore led McGonagall onto the floor and couldn’t help a small snort at Filch and Mrs. Norris. His eyes landed on Moody for a moment, as well as Karkaroff, and took notice of their intense stares but quickly moved on. He was finally feeling sort of happy and he didn’t want to lose that.

“I believe you have fulfilled your duty as a champion,” Luna said, grabbing his attention again. “We can sit if you like.”

He smiled and nodded. They made their way through the swirling couples and, after grabbing some pumpkin juice, found an empty table. They chose a good time to sit as the ballroom music ended and the wizarding band, the Weird Sisters, was introduced. The music took a turn, becoming much more like Muggle rock music and everyone began dancing in a mob, the professors quickly bowing out. He sipped his juice and watched, catching sight of Hermione bouncing and jumping with Viktor every now and then.

He tensed when a hand lightly touched his shoulder. He looked up, relaxing almost instantly at the sight of Snape. The Potions master gave him a steady look, asking a question.

Harry smiled. “Actually, I think I’ll hang out for a while.”

With a squeeze of his shoulder that he wasn’t positive even happened, Snape inclined his head and swept out of the Hall.

“It’s quite amazing how much has changed,” Luna observed casually.

Harry shrugged a shoulder. “I don’t think too much has really changed.”

“Maybe you can’t see it from the inside,” she said. “From the outside, however, the change is remarkable. There is so much care between you.”

Harry chuckled. “Now I know you’re making things up. Snape could never care about me and I’m not exactly singing his praises.”

“Don’t worry, you’ll see it soon,” Luna said, going so far as to pat his hand. “These things make us blind.”

Harry furrowed his eyebrows slightly.

“Might I bother you for one more dance?” Luna said. Harry blinked for a moment before smiling.

“Of course.”

He took her hand and led her back to the floor where couples had once again claimed the space as a slow song began. They dropped the formality and just wrapped their arms around waist and neck. He settled into the swaying motion as they slowly circled, gazing around the Hall at everyone else. Many students were seated, having some snack and drinks and chatting. Most of the professors were standing around the perimeter of the room, observing, and a few stood close enough together that they could talk quietly. Snape, surprisingly, was standing by the doors. He thought the Potions master had left.

“He’s looking out for you,” Luna said, grabbing his attention.

“Who is?”

“Professor Snape, of course. You’re the reason he’s still here.”

“I don’t think so, Luna,” Harry said, glancing back at Snape to find him leaving the Hall behind Karkaroff. “There, see, he’s left. He was waiting for Karkaroff.”

“That is why he left, not why he had stayed,” Luna said and he looked at her. She always seemed to know so much more than she said and people assumed. She was so different and unique.

He was startled out of his thoughts by a muffled crash outside the Great Hall. Only a few people seemed to hear it and everyone else just continued on. Until the second, louder crash and scream that followed quickly after the first crash. The band stopped and everyone stopped dancing, turning to look at the doors in question. Everything was silent for a time, the professors all moving slowly towards the doors, wands drawn.

He jumped and there were startled screams when one door flew open. He frowned at the sight of a distressed and disheveled Lucius Malfoy. The man was looking around wildly until he spotted Draco. Without a word, he hurried to his son, taking a moment to whisper in the boy’s ear. Once he finished, he turned to Dumbledore.

“They’ve gotten inside the castle,” Malfoy said. Harry looked at the headmaster for some kind of explanation but got none.

Dumbledore had no time to respond before the Great Hall doors disintegrated into tiny shards. Screams rang out and people began running in a panic as the masked intruders began casting curse after curse. Harry’s eyes widened and he automatically grabbed his wand.

Death Eaters.

Death Eaters had found a way into the school.

There was no time to contemplate, however, and he pulled Luna out of the path of a particularly vicious Blasting Curse.

“You have to find a way out of here,” Harry said but Luna was already shaking her head. She pulled her wand out from seemingly nowhere.

“I’ll fight with you.”

He wanted to argue but there was no time. He nodded and ran into the fray, blocking a Burning Curse from hitting a Beauxbatons boy. He battled the best he could, reading and blocking what he could. He fought for them all…he fought for Ron. He sent a strong stunner, knocking one Death Eater out cold. He hissed as a Cutting Curse sliced the top of his shoulder.

He whirled around when he heard a scream. “Luna!” He watched her go down on a shattered leg and was about to run to her when Draco beat him to it, shielding the Ravenclaw. They met eyes and nodded, Draco standing guard and Harry returning to the fight. He flung a Death Eater into the refreshment table, shattering it but knocking the wizard out.

He felt a rush behind him and turned, reading the curse even though the colour of it made it unnecessary. He had no time to react but others had. He was quickly being pulled and pushed to the left, out of the Killing Curse’s path. Despite the interference, the curse still found a target and he stared at Draco’s body with shocked, wide eyes. A shudder went through his arm that wasn’t his own. He looked up at Mr. Malfoy whose eyes were already flooding and pouring over. The man collapsed to his knees, pulling his dead son onto his lap.

Harry just watched, horrified and heartbroken, paying no mind to the ending battle around them. Was this what it had been like for those that had watched him with Ron? He slowly knelt down and put a hand on Mr. Malfoy’s shoulder. The man gave him a sad, almost defeated glance but there was also gratitude.

They didn’t notice when the entire event ended.


	10. Chapter 9

Harry stood staring at the shiny black casket that held the body of Draco Malfoy, hardly noticing that he was soaked from the pouring rain. How many funerals would he have to go to? How many people would die? Was it all because of him? The Death Eaters were more than likely after him and Draco had been protecting him. Was it his fault?

Tomorrow was New Years’ Eve. Maybe the new year would be better.

He looked up when he was suddenly shielded from the downpour. He met the steady eyes of Snape.

“Thanks,” he said, turning back to the coffin.

“You’ll catch your death out here,” Snape said. “This won’t be rain much longer.”

Harry shrugged. “Wouldn’t be the first time I was stuck out in bad weather.”

“What do you—“

“Don’t ask, not now.”

Snape sighed. “It is not your fault.”

“Isn’t it?” Harry gazed up at him again. “The curse was for me. I’m the one who wasn’t paying attention. He was saving my stupid self.”

“What he did was brave and honourable,” Snape said and put a hand on the back of Harry’s neck in a new form of comfort. “Perhaps try to remember that instead.”

“I don’t deserve to live more than he did.”

“But you _do_ deserve to live,” Snape said and continued when Harry went to argue. “He deserves to live as well, I know. Perhaps consider the idea that his feelings towards you had changed enough that he now saw the two of you as being on the same level.”

Harry returned to the coffin, thoughtful.

“Do not remain out here for too much longer and you may come down when you return inside,” Snape said. He squeezed Harry’s neck gently and swept away into the castle, leaving Harry to stand in the rain that was quickly turning to sleet.

He knew he should go inside but he couldn’t make himself leave. Nothing about Draco Malfoy seemed properly settled and closed. Things _had_ been changing, their animosity fading. They were even being…friendly. Now nothing more could come of it. They would never know if they could be friends. He wrapped his arms around himself sadly. Merlin knew they could both use a friend.

“Potter!”

Harry turned his head and tensed when he saw Draco’s crowd heading towards him. He slipped his hand inside his jacket, grasping his wand.

“You think you’re doing?” Blaise Zabini snapped.

“Saying goodbye,” he said simply.

“You have no right!” Pansy Parkinson screeched.

“I knew him too,” Harry said. “I have every right.”

“You lost that right when he died for you,” Zabini sneered. “It’s your fault, just like Weasley.”

Harry winced involuntarily.

“Time you joined him,” Zabini said and before Harry could think, he was being dragged and tossed into icy cold water.

He gasped, regretting it immediately when water rushed painfully into his lungs. He instantly snapped his mouth shut and struggled to gain his bearings. He had no idea which way was which through the cold and shock and pain. He struggled to swim in any direction, his vision blocked by dark water.

After more thrashing, he managed to determine which way was ‘up’ and he started for it immediately. His lungs were burning from the ice water and lack of oxygen. He could feel his body beginning to panic but he kept swimming until his ankle was grabbed, and he found the surface growing further away. He went to look down at the culprit but suddenly lost the fight to hold his breath, and the lake’s water rushed into his body at an excruciating pace. It wasn’t long before his vision began to spot and blur before going steadily darker.

_‘Come seek us where our voices sound,_

_We cannot sing above the ground.’_

Well, that was nice whatever it was.

He wasn’t aware that he was moving through the water until he found himself swallowing air rather than icy water. He heaved painfully and coughed harshly. His chest and throat seared and burned, his eyes beginning to water with the pain.

“Take it easy,” a voice said. “Breathe slowly.”

He did his best to listen, finding his mind coming to focus on the gentle hand that had come to rest on his back. His chest continued to burn but he slowly began to catch his breath. He began to shiver, his drenched body registering the frigid air of the Scottish winter storm that had quickly come upon the castle.

“You’ll be alright,” the voice said and a warm cloak fell over his shoulders.

Harry blinked to clear his vision as his breathing became regular. He looked around, finally able to see his surroundings. He clutched the cloak tighter, feeling his body shake harder with the cold. He finally looked up at the man who had saved him and was shocked to see the long blonde hair of Lucius Malfoy. He winced involuntarily, a memory of second year racing by.

“How’re you feeling?”

“C-cold,” Harry said honestly and Malfoy chuckled. “W-w—“

“Let’s get you inside and warm, and then we’ll talk, yes?” Malfoy said and Harry nodded.

With the man’s help, Harry got to his feet unsteadily and slowly walked. He leaned heavily on Malfoy, grateful for the supporting arm around his still cloak-covered shoulders. He was becoming exhausted and the journey through the castle was becoming a blur. He amazed himself when, at a flight of stairs, he was brought into Malfoy’s arms and he didn’t struggle. As he was carried, he noticed the spiraling down of their trek and realized they were heading down into the dungeons. He blinked to himself. Shouldn’t they be going to the Hospital Wing?

He was placed back on his feet and he instantly grabbed Malfoy’s robes for balance. They continued. They didn’t walk much farther before they were pushing through a couple of doors. Heat hit his body and he sighed slightly at how good it felt.

“Really, Lucius? I understand today is difficult but to barge in?”

Harry raised his head slightly at the voice.

“Severus,” Malfoy said, still holding Harry to his side.

Harry watched the professor enter the room, expecting to be angrily thrown out.

“My god, what’s happened?” Snape said, rushing over to them.

“It seems some of Draco’s…associates decided to get what they considered revenge. They threw him in the lake. I just managed to get him,” Malfoy said.

Shockingly, Snape had knelt in front of Harry and was examining the child.

“Are you alright?” Snape asked.

Harry nodded. “Cold,” he whispered, clutching Malfoy’s cloak around him tighter.

“Of course you are, child,” Snape said, getting to his feet and pulling Harry over to stand by the roaring fireplace. Snape waved his wand, and a thick bathrobe flew into his arms and a fluffy blanket landed by their feet. “Put this on and wrap up in the blanket. Remove your clothes first and sit by the fire.”

Harry looked at him, unsure.

“We will leave the room while you change but you must get out of the clothes,” Snape said.

Harry sighed and nodded, taking the robe from the professor.

“I will make some tea,” Snape said. “Lucius.”

Harry watched the two men walk into the kitchen and the normally open door swung closed. He smiled a little at the gesture and proceeded to do as he was told. While it was quite strange and uncomfortable to be wearing nothing under the robe, he did his best to ignore it, knowing he couldn’t stay in the clothes. He unfolded the blanket and, settling on the rug in front of the fire, wrapped it around his body and leaned against the side of the sofa. He stared into the dancing flames, still shivering but already feeling much warmer.

“Tea.” Snape interrupted Harry’s silence and he reached out of his cocoon for the steaming mug.

“Thank you,” he said, using it to warm his hands and breathing the steam to warm his chest.

Snape inclined his head and sat on the sofa beside where Harry was leaning. “Feeling any better?”

“Yes, sir. Already warmer,” Harry said, carefully taking a sip of his tea.

“Good,” Snape said. “Stay there by the fire for a while longer.”

Harry nodded and returned to looking at the fire.

“Who was involved?” Snape asked Malfoy who was sitting at the other end of the sofa.

“Crabbe, Goyle, Parkinson, and Zabini,” Malfoy said. “I believe Zabini was the main instigator.”

“What has happened to them?”

“Already sent to Dumbledore who has also already received a Ministry order for disciplinary action.”

“Excellent,” Snape said. “Thank you.”

Malfoy gave his friend an odd but knowing look. “Not something I will allow happen and I know Dumbledore will not act without force.”

Snape hummed in agreement. “How are you?” he asked after a short period of silence.

Malfoy shrugged. “As well as I can be. It’s been hard.”

Snape nodded. “And Narcissa? I noticed she left immediately after the funeral.”

“Yes, she is not coping well,” Malfoy said. “I worry about her, worry she may give up.”

“You suspect suicidal thoughts?” Snape said.

Malfoy nodded. “I have one of our house elves with her whenever I am not.”

“Bring her to me if you need.”

“I will.”

“Professor?” Harry interrupted and Snape looked down at the teen. “What kind of creatures live in the Black Lake?”

“The lake is predominately inhabited by grindylows and merpeople,” Snape said. “Why do you ask?”

“I heard singing,” Harry said, looking back at the fire.

“That would be the merpeople,” Snape said. “They can only speak underwater and have lovely melodies.”

Harry’s eyes widened as his mind raced, and he began to get to his feet. “I have to go. I—“

“You are going to sit back down,” Snape said, a gentle hand on Harry’s shoulder. “You must rest and warm up, child. Whatever it is can wait until tomorrow.”

Harry met the man’s eyes and nodded. He settled back against the sofa, unconsciously leaning against his professor’s legs lightly.

The atmosphere grew remarkably comfortable, Snape and Malfoy quietly talking and Harry relaxing into the flames. He vaguely listened to their conversation, feeling himself slowly drifting off. He was so warm and comfortable. His eyelids continuously drooped until they remained closed, keeping him in a deep and restful sleep.

“Severus, the boy,” Malfoy said, gesturing to the teen still sitting on the floor.

Snape glanced down to find the child had fallen asleep and had done so against his legs. Rather than irritation, he felt a sense of relief, relief that the child was alright and currently under his care. He frowned to himself as he continued to watch the Gryffindor sleep. Had things truly changed that much? Was he coming to care for the boy? He was the one that had been helping the boy through the year’s hardships and tragedies. They had been spending plenty of time together outside class and meetings. His reasons and excuses for previously hating the boy had slowly dissolved. It was possible he was developing a fondness for the child. Was it already so far to be considered caring? Could their past be forgiven?

“Shall we wake him and return him to the Tower?” Malfoy said, breaking Snape’s musings. “Severus?”

“No, let him sleep,” Snape said. “He needs the rest.”

Malfoy gave a small smile. “Very well. I shall take my leave. I will talk to you tomorrow.”

“Have a good night, Lucius, and thank you again for the help with Potter,” Snape said. Malfoy inclined his head in acknowledgement before stepping into the Floo.

Snape looked down at the sleeping Gryffindor and considered the situation. He should send Potter back to the Tower but something stopped him. Unbeknownst to him, his eyes had begun to soften as he observed the teenager. Surprising even himself, his hand came up and lightly touched the messy black hair. He carded his fingers gently through the hair.

The child was having such a difficult year and he didn’t seem to have many people to lean on and support him. He had a small handful of friends but that seemed to be it. Through passing comments, Snape had begun to wonder about the boy’s relatives. Additionally, what had happened to Lupin and Black? Wouldn’t they be in constant contact with Potter now they had all be reunited? Potter never mentioned either of the men.

He frowned slightly. Potter clearly had secrets. Not that he could judge; he had his own secrets, he mused, casting a glance down at his left arm.

What to do with the boy? After a few moments of thought, he finally made a decision. He carefully got to his feet and picked up the child who didn’t even stir. He walked to one of the four doors that led off the sitting room. He pushed the door open to the guestroom he had never before used. It was a dull room, nothing but beige colours, but it would do. He placed Potter on the bed, tucking him under the blankets and draping the extra fluffy blanket over top. He waved his wand silently and the fireplace came to life.

He gazed down at the boy, a damaged boy who was seemingly alone in the world. His heart beat with empathy, knowing what it was like to be alone.

No one, especially a child, should be forgotten and alone.

* * *

Harry walked out of the guestroom after dressing in the dry and clean clothes that had been left for him. He had been surprised to wake up still in Snape’s rooms. He thought he would’ve been sent back to Gryffindor Tower.

 _He was worried about you_ , Ron’s voice said.

Harry found he couldn’t argue. Snape _had_ seemed concerned when Malfoy had brought him to the Potions master. Malfoy had seemed worried as well, come to think of it. It was an unfamiliar feeling, having adults that had worried about him and taken care of him.

He slowly walked into the kitchen and found Professor Snape standing at the stove, obviously cooking something.

“You know how to cook?” he blurted and then mentally cursed himself.

Snape turned his head, an eyebrow raised. “Good morning to you too, Mr. Potter.”

“Sorry,” Harry said. “Good morning.”

“Take a seat,” Snape said, turning back to the pan on the stove. “I do not generally cook while at Hogwarts as there are house elves. I do, however, cook at my home. I have never had a house elf and will never have one. I believe in doing things for yourself even if you have magic.”

Harry nodded in agreement. “My uncle has made sure I know that. He believes I should do everything myself so I don’t rely on him.”

Snape gave the boy a curious look as he plated breakfast. “I suppose that is a good lesson. Is your uncle reliable?”

“With certain things,” Harry said.

 _He’s reliable with punishments_ , he added silently.

Snape hummed. One of these days he would get the full story of the Dursley family. “Eat,” he said, putting a full plate at the spot closest to where Harry was still standing.

“Thanks,” Harry said, taking a seat. “Also, thanks for letting me stay here.”

Snape sat across from the boy with his own plate. “I had to ensure you had not caught pneumonia.”

Harry hid a small smile. “Right.”

They continued their breakfast in comfortable silence. Giving it a brief thought, Harry realized it wasn’t odd anymore. Having comfortable silences was becoming normal. He smiled down at his sausages, remembering what had been normal for them not too long ago.

“So, um, how is Mr. Malfoy?” Harry eventually asked.

“He is coping,” Snape said, glancing through the mail that had appeared on the table beside his plate. “It will take him time but I believe he will get through this. He is very strong.”

“Why was he still here, when he saved me?”

“He was coming to visit with me,” Snape said. “We are good friends and have been since our youth.”

“Did you go to school together?”

“Hogwarts, yes, for a short time. He was in his final year when I began. He helped me in that year and we remained in contact even after he had graduated.”

“He helped you with the Marauders?”

Snape looked at him sharply.

Harry dropped his eyes, ashamed. “Lupin, last year. He would tell me stories about their time in Hogwarts. He didn’t use names but he did say Slytherins were their main targets with their pranks.”

Harry caught the sneer that grazed Snape’s face. “Suppose you two had great fun reliving those ‘pranks’.”

Harry shrugged. “Lupin might have but I didn’t. It didn’t sound like pranks to me. It sounded vicious. It sounded like my cousin.”

“Your cousin?”

Harry nodded. “We don’t get along.”

Snape’s eyes narrowed.

“Is that why you hate me?” Harry asked, ignoring the unasked questions he knew the professor had. “I remind you of my father, of them and what they did?”

Snape stared at the teen steadily. “It was part of it.”

Harry dropped his eyes with a nod.

“However, things change and it has little relevance anymore.”

The boy’s gaze flew up and fixed on the professor.

“I do not hate you,” Snape said. “I am seeing the things I should have in the beginning. I had simply blinded myself.”

Harry smiled, ignoring the way his eyes had begun to water. “Thank you, sir. I’m sure I didn’t exactly make things easy sometimes. I’m aware I can be difficult.”

Snape smirked. “You certainly can be, child.” He turned his attention to the letter he had opened and held in his hand. He raised an eyebrow at the contents. “I must speak with the headmaster but you may continue your breakfast.”

Harry swallowed his most recent bite and shook his head. “Nope, I’m done. Thank you for the food.”

“If it meant you would eat more, I would give you breakfast every morning,” Snape said.

Harry got to his feet. “Been hard this year.”

Snape’s gaze gentled. “I know. Now go but try to avoid the Slytherins and don’t go outside.”

Harry chuckled. “I won’t.”

Snape nodded in approval and they both left the man’s quarters. They walked up to the Entrance Hall together and then separated. Harry stood at the bottom of the Grand Staircase for a time, contemplating what to do with his day. As he stood there, the song he had heard in the lake came to mind.

“Merpeople,” he mumbled to himself and then began the journey up to his dorm in the Tower. He walked into the common room and was immediately confronted by hateful glares from Hermione and Ginny. He just shook his head sadly to himself and walked up to the dorm. He opened the trunk at the foot of his bed and grabbed his still unsolved golden egg. He had an idea, though, and, with the hint from Cedric some time ago, he was positive he was on the right track.

He also pulled out the Marauder’s Map, though he did so with sadness. It was a fantastic tool but it was also a reminder of Remus and Sirius, both of whom he had yet to hear from. He sighed and revealed the map, searching for anyone around the Prefects’ bathroom on the fifth floor.

It was currently clear.

He quietly left the Tower, ignoring the glares from Hermione and Ginny again. He walked down the corridor once on the fifth floor, searching for the statue that essentially hid the door to the Prefects’ bathroom. He found it around a corner and stopped, staring at the door, realizing he didn’t have the password. He bit his lip and looked at the map, remembering when it revealed a required incantation for him the previous year. He grinned when ‘pine fresh’ appeared beside the door on the map.

“Pine fresh,” he said and heard a click from the door. He pushed it open.

For a bathroom, the place was massive. It resembled more of an indoor swimming pool than anything else. He closed the map and put it in the cupboard where he found extra towels to keep it safe. He moved over to the pool-like bathtub and began to remove his clothes down to his boxers. He turned the taps by his feet and water of various colours poured from faucets and almost instantly filled the tub. Once filled, he stepped in.

He took a moment to enjoy the luxury before turning to the golden egg sitting on the edge with the towel.

He felt extremely confident in his idea but he also felt that he was completely insane for thinking water would change anything. With a mental shrug, he pulled his egg in and dunked it under the surface, opening it.

No screeching.

Instead, something muffled.

He took a deep breath and ducked under.

_‘Come seek us where our voices sound,_

_We cannot sing above the ground,_

_And while you’re searching ponder this;_

_We’ve taken what you’ll sorely miss,_

_An hour long you’ll have to look,_

_And to recover what we took,_

_But past an hour, the prospect’s black,_

_Too late, it’s gone, it won’t come back.’_

Harry quickly emerged, coughing. He had barely made it but he had, and now he had his clue.

As Snape had informed him, merpeople lived in the Black Lake so it was obviously merpeople that the song referred to. Something of meaning to him would be taken and he had to find it. The part that was getting him was the time. How was he supposed to hold his breath underwater for an hour? It was impossible.

He listened to the song a couple more times to make sure he didn’t miss anything, but it was perfectly clear.

Mostly.

How would he breathe underwater for an hour?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The egg's song is directly from "Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire" by JK Rowling.


	11. Chapter 10

_Dear Sirius,_

_I hope this reaches you and I hope you’re alright. I haven’t seen anything in the_ Prophet _, so I’m assuming you haven’t been caught. I hope you managed to have a decent Christmas. Had to be better than mine in any case._

_Draco Malfoy was killed Christmas day at the Yule Ball. Somehow Death Eaters got into the school. He died protecting me. To top it off, after the funeral, some Slytherins threw me in the lake as revenge for Draco’s death. I almost didn’t make it but Mr. Malfoy saved me, Mr. Malfoy and Professor Snape. Mr. Malfoy pulled me from the lake and Professor Snape got me warm._

_He’s been really great, Professor Snape, I mean. I think…I think he might actually care about me, even just a little bit. It’s…nice. He’s good to me, he’s taken care of me. He listens to me. It’s different from any other adult I’ve had in my life, especially compared to the Dursleys._

_The Second Task is next month and I’ve figured out what it is, but not what to do. How do I hold my breath underwater for an hour?_

_I hope to hear from you soon._

_Harry_

Harry sighed and put the letter in an envelope, handing it to Hedwig. She hooted and rubbed against his hand before taking off. Harry watched her fly until he could no longer see her. He turned his gaze from the sky and watched a group of students make their way across the grounds. He glanced across at the restored Quidditch Pitch where a couple people were casually flying around.

He sighed again. He missed Quidditch and flying. The tournament had cancelled out Quidditch that year. Though he missed it, he wasn’t sure how much he really wanted to fly. It brought up memories of both Ron and Draco, and those memories were painful now.

He shook his head and pushed away from the railing, leaving the Astronomy Tower. He needed to go to the library and find a way to survive the Second Task. He went down the spiral staircase and, shoving his hands in his pockets, made his way through the corridors.

He found himself stumbling backwards as he ran into something solid.

“Alright, Mr. Potter?” Mr. Malfoy said, looking down at the young Gryffindor.

“Oh, Mr. Malfoy, sorry,” Harry said. “I obviously wasn’t looking.”

“I’ll admit to being a touch preoccupied as well,” the man said.

Harry nodded, figuring he was referring to Draco. “What are you doing here?”

“I am visiting Professor Snape and collecting Draco’s things.”

A stab of pain went through Harry’s heart.

“Did saving me interrupt your visit yesterday?”

“Not at all,” Mr. Malfoy said, shaking his head. “I frequently visit as it is. I am simply taking comfort in an old friend during this tragedy.”

“I’m sorry about Draco,” Harry said sincerely. “I know we never got along but we had been trying. I regret not having more time to get to know him. We may have been able to be friends.”

Mr. Malfoy smiled. “Walk with me?”

Harry was startled by the offer. “Sure.”

“I know Draco did not give a good first impression,” Mr. Malfoy said. “Perhaps you two could have been friends but the fact cannot be hidden that he started things all wrong.”

Harry chuckled. “He knew how to make an impression.”

Mr. Malfoy nodded. “A skill he learned from me, I believe. Our first meeting was not much better.”

Harry flashed back to the summer before second year. He had met Mr. Malfoy in Flourish and Blotts and the man had been beyond intimidating. Not to mention the encounter ended with a fist fight between Mr. Malfoy and Mr. Weasley. He nodded to concede the man’s point.

“You were a popular topic with Draco,” Mr. Malfoy said. “It was quite irritating at times.”

Harry laughed again.

“We spoiled the boy,” the man continued. “Sometimes we focused more on that than teaching him essential skills such as patience and humility and empathy.”

“He seemed to have gained some of that this year,” Harry said. “After all, he approached me first. In fact, he’s part of the reason I was able to survive the First Task.”

“Despite what he showed the world, Draco wanted to help people. He probably would have been a Healer,” Mr. Malfoy said with a small smile. “This year has changed many things.”

“Like the fact that Voldemort is active again, gaining power?” Harry said and gained a hard look from the blonde. “I know you’re a Death Eater or were or whatever. I know you’ve got the Dark Mark. I have nightmares so I know about Voldemort.” He pointed to his scar and Mr. Malfoy frowned.

“How do you know that and what does your scar have to do with nightmares?”

“It wasn’t hard to determine when Moody forced Draco to name the Imperius Curse. It became even more obvious when Moody accused Draco of being one because of who his father is,” Harry said.

Mr. Malfoy sighed sadly. “I am still a Death Eater but I am not loyal. I haven’t been since Draco turned five and I was forced to sign a contract that essentially bound Draco to the fate of becoming a Death Eater at sixteen. I have no way out. My wife and I would be killed if I left. I have no options.”

“I’m guessing the Mark can be used against you?” Harry said and Mr. Malfoy nodded.

“It can kill us instantly if he so chooses.”

“Is there no way to remove the Mark or cancel its connection?”

“No way that’s been found. Maybe there is but no one knows it yet.”

“Maybe someone should.”

Mr. Malfoy gave him a gentle smile. “It is an honourable idea but no one is going to try find a way to help Death Eaters.”

“Maybe someone should,” Harry repeated. Mr. Malfoy pat his shoulder.

“The Mark was my choice and it is a choice I must live with,” Mr. Malfoy said. “Now what is this about your scar?”

Harry shrugged. “I don’t completely know. I’ve been doing a ton of research. The main thing I know is that I have some kind of physical connection to Voldemort and it’s because of my scar.”

“How do you figure?”

“I started having nightmares—visions, actually—of Voldemort in the summer. My scar started to hurt in the summer too. All around the same time Voldemort started acting and gaining power. It is not just a coincidence,” Harry explained.

“How is that possible?”

“That’s what I’ve been trying to figure out. It has something to do with Halloween. I think something happened when the Killing Curse backfired,” Harry said.

“I’ve never heard of such a thing.”

“Yeah, well, no one had ever heard of surviving the Killing Curse either.”

They fell quiet as Mr. Malfoy acknowledged the valid point.

“Well,” Harry said after a time, “I should get to the library. Homework and stuff.”

“Of course,” Mr. Malfoy said. “It was a pleasure to talk to you.”

“Yeah, you too,” Harry said and watched the man walk away. He had a bemused look on his face, slightly confused by the interaction they had just had. Would no one stay the same this year or was it the year for breaking misconceptions? He shook his head and headed to the library.

* * *

“You must be out of your mind,” Snape said, glaring at the headmaster. “What makes you think I even rank in the top twenty?”

“Severus, you know I do not make this choice,” Dumbledore said. “The chief told me who must be taken.”

“Then the chief is deluded.”

“You know they are never wrong.”

Snape huffed and crossed his arms, staring out the window.

“What I am curious about is how this has come to be.”

Snape glared again. “This is exactly what you wanted when you started the meetings.”

“I simply wanted you to understand each other and become civil. I never expected this.”

“Neither did I.” An image of a smiling black haired boy flitted through Snape’s mind.

“Do you agree?” Dumbledore interrupted. “You must not tell him.”

“I know that,” Snape said. “And I don’t have much of a choice, do I?”

“No.”

“Very well.”

* * *

Harry sighed as he looked at the small calendar on Snape’s desk from his own. In the grand scheme, there wasn’t much time before he would be back with the Dursleys. He wouldn’t be able to use Sirius as a threat anymore. The Dursleys were dumb but they would have come to assume by now that his godfather didn’t exist. They wouldn’t believe him about Sirius anymore.

 _He pretty much doesn’t exist to me either_ , he thought bitterly.

He would need supplies this summer if he wanted to survive, especially as he probably wouldn’t be getting much from the Weasleys this summer, not after Ron.

 _Are you really considering stealing from Snape_? Ron’s voice said in disbelief.

 _I don’t have much choice_ , he thought back.

 _You could tell someone_ , Ron said.

 _No one will believe me_ , Harry thought sadly. _I tried telling Dumbledore and he didn’t listen, just sent me back. No one ever believes me. No one cares_.

 _He does_ , Ron’s voice said and then faded away as Harry glanced up at Snape who was wrapping up his lecture on Veritaserum. Not a potion they would brew until sixth year, but an important one to know about.

 _I don’t_ want _to steal from him but I have to try if I want to live to see next year_. He sighed to himself, trying to figure out a way to get into Snape’s stores. He had no idea he was the only one still sitting in the classroom.

“Mr. Potter.”

No response.

“Mr. Potter.”

Snape crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow.

“Potter!”

Finally, Harry started and looked at him.

“As thrilled as I would be if you were suddenly devoted to Potions,” Snape drawled sarcastically, “class has been dismissed.”

Harry’s eyes darted around the empty room and he flushed. “Oh! I’m sorry, sir.” He began to quickly pack his things away.

“I do hope this daydreaming did not affect your listening and note-taking,” Snape said.

Harry shook his head. “No, sir.”

Snape hummed, observing the boy with a slight frown. Something was bothering the child. “Is everything alright, Potter?”

“Hm? Oh, yeah, fine,” Harry said, pulling his bag onto his shoulder. “I’m fine. See you tomorrow, Professor.”

Snape nodded and watched the child leave curiously. Something was on the Gryffindor’s mind. It was too bad they didn’t meet until tomorrow. He frowned as he contemplated what could be troubling the teen. Granted, there were many things preoccupying the boy this year but this distraction was recent, had come on suddenly.

What could it be?

He would find out tomorrow.

* * *

Harry winced but said nothing as he was harshly shoulder-checked and shoved into the wall. He glanced at the snickering Slytherins and shook his head, rubbing his shoulder. It was sure to bruise from the impact with the wall. It didn’t matter. He was used to it. The Slytherins were constantly at him since Draco’s death and he still had many from Gryffindor and the other houses after him for Ron.

He dropped his eyes to his feet as he walked, thinking of Ron. It was slightly easier to think about Ron now. It still sent searing pain through his heart but he didn’t tear up anymore. He sighed. Ron would’ve helped him get into Snape’s stores. Ron would’ve helped him figure out what to do for the Second Task. Ron would’ve helped him with all their violent classmates. Ron would’ve helped him figure out the deal with Moody.

Ron would’ve helped.

He shoved his hands in his pockets somewhat bitterly. Why did _he_ have to lose everyone? No one else lost parents, mentors, godfathers, friends…

He had lost them all. He had no one.

A door flew open just in front of him and he jumped, staring inside. His eyebrows came together in confusion as he stared at Karkaroff and Moody. What were they doing in a store closet? They always seemed to hate each other. And why were they staring at Karkaroff’s arm? He glanced down but the Highmaster had yanked his sleeve down. With a glare at both Moody and Harry, Karkaroff stalked off.

“Potter,” Moody said, stopping Harry from leaving. “Were you needing something?”

“I was just heading to Professor Snape’s office, sir. We have a meeting,” Harry said, frowning as the man’s tongue darted out like a snake’s. It was that tic again.

“Ah, Snape,” Moody said almost knowingly. Harry began to feel the same uncomfortable feeling he always got around the man. “Got a dark past, he does. Know he almost went to Azkaban?”

Harry felt a spark of interest but pushed it down. “We’ve all got secrets.”

“Aye, that we do, boy,” Moody said, his magical eye rolling all around and his tongue poking out. “Some advice for yeh. Don’t trust Snape. He ain’t loyal to Dumbledore.”

Harry took a step back. “I really don’t think those two things go together.”

Moody’s face twisted into a disfigured smirk. “You’d be surprised, kid. Don’t trust ‘im. He’s got nothin’ but evil inside.”

“I don’t believe that.”

Suddenly Moody grabbed Harry’s right arm roughly and tightly. “Take a look at ‘is arm…if you can.” The man snickered and shoved Harry away.

Harry’s eyes were drawn to Moody’s flicking tongue again. “I-I have to go or-or I’ll be late. See you later, Professor.” He walked as fast as he could without running away from Moody and into the dungeons. He walked straight through the doors and into Snape’s rooms.

“The courtesy of knocking no longer exists?” Snape drawled, his eyebrows raised.

Harry just shrugged and dropped into the same chair he always occupied, accepting the same cup of tea. After a few sips, he reached into his bag and pulled out Mulligan’s book once again. Apparently there was a complex potion that would reveal the presence of a foreign soul fragment. It was a crazy potion, though, with many ingredients he had never even heard of. Until he figured out a solution to that problem, the book had given some ‘symptoms’ to watch for that could indicate a soul fragment. He was now well into the section on consequences of being the host of a soul fragment.

“And how are we today?” Snape asked casually, flipping through a Potions magazine.

Harry shrugged one shoulder, wincing when it was his recently injured one. “Fine, I guess. Nothing particularly noteworthy.”

“Is something wrong with your shoulder?” Snape asked.

“It’s fine,” Harry said dismissively.

“If you are in pain, I—“

“Really, it’s fine, Professor,” Harry said. “Just bumped the wall on the way here.”

Snape’s eyebrows furrowed, aware that large portions of information were being omitted. Thankfully, he did not push the matter.

In the silence, Harry turned as he read, throwing his legs over one arm of the chair and leaning against the other.

“One might think that were your chair given how often you occupy it and how comfortable you make yourself,” Snape observed.

Harry only gave him a cursory glance. “I suppose.”

“As you are a common presence and source of company, perhaps it _is_ your chair.”

Harry raised his eyes, looking over his glasses. “Are you trying to give or sell me your chair?” he questioned.

Snape sighed. “No, idiot, I am attempting to make you feel more comfortable here by observing a space or spot as yours.”

Harry blinked, comprehending, before he smiled lightly. “I am comfortable here. This is probably the only place I really am comfortable anymore. Thank you for the gesture though. So, it’s my chair now?”

“You appear to have claimed it long ago.”

Harry grinned. “Excellent. So I can kick people out of it.”

Snape just rolled his eyes and returned to his magazine.


	12. Chapter 11

“What do you know about the boy’s relatives and his home life?” Mr. Malfoy asked Snape as they sipped glasses of wine.

“Virtually nothing,” Snape said. “I only have the vague comments Potter has made in passing. He’s quite good at evasion. Why do you ask?”

“He has some familiar mannerisms and reactions to certain situations.”

Snape smirked. “Spying on the boy, are we?”

“Simply observing,” Malfoy said haughtily and Snape snorted quietly in disbelief. “Besides, do you really stand in a position to judge?”

“Ah, but I am meant to be watching the boy,” Snape said.

“Based on your role in the upcoming Task, I would say you’ve gone beyond simply watching,” Malfoy said, grinning into his wine glass. “Not that there is anything wrong with it.”

“I do not have a choice,” Snape said, scowling though it was quite half-hearted. “One cannot deny merpeople, particularly a chief.”

“True,” Malfoy conceded, “but to be in the situation to begin with.”

Snape just glared. After some time, Malfoy sobered.

“I believe Potter has fallen—or been pushed—under the radar, as they say,” Malfoy said.

“I have been trying to get him to speak to me about his home, but he refuses. He shuts down and instantly changes the subject,” Snape said, nodding.

“You know the signs, Severus,” Malfoy said and Snape sighed, swirling his wine.

“He fits many and what has me truly worried is how he seems to fit another nearly every few days or week.”

Malfoy’s face tightened and they became silent, wondering what the truth was about the Boy Who Lived.

* * *

Harry slipped out of bed when Seamus—the last in their dorm—fell asleep and snuck down into the common room. He opened the Marauder’s Map and located Snape’s private storeroom. He silently cursed when he spotted Snape and Mr. Malfoy in Snape’s rooms.

Now what would he do? There was definitely an alarm on the room and they would both come running instantly.

He bit his lips, thinking.

 _You could_ not _steal from the professor_ , Ron’s voice spoke up helpfully. _You could get help instead by telling Malfoy or McGonagall or, I don’t know, Snape! The man who cares a hell of a lot about you these days._

 _No one will help me_ , Harry thought sadly. _Look at Dumbledore_.

 _Snape isn’t Dumbledore_ , Ron said. _Snape cares about you. Dumbledore cares about a complicit chess piece._

Harry stared at the empty fireplace, his eyes burning.

 _No one ever believes me_ , he thought weakly.

 _Snape will. He’s believed you about everything this year so far and he’s helped you with everything_ , Ron said.

Harry considered the idea but shook his head almost immediately. If anyone was going to help him, Dumbledore would have, and if not him, then Lupin or Sirius would have. Sirius would have answered a letter if he cared enough to save his godson’s life.

He looked at Snape’s room again and perked up when he saw Mr. Malfoy was leaving. He rushed out of the common room, throwing his invisibility cloak over his body. He quickly made his way down the Grand Staircase and into the dungeons. He peeked around the corner of the corridor holding Snape’s rooms and private stores. It appeared clear. He glanced at the map, finding Mr. Malfoy a few corridors away inside the Slytherin common room.

 _Probably getting things of Draco’s he missed last time_ , he thought off-handedly.

He cleared the map and shoved it in his pocket, walking down the hall. He stopped at the door to Snape’s stores. There were probably all kinds of wards and charms and locks on the door to stop thieves and intruders. He bit his lip in thought, pulling off his cloak. He contemplated the plain wooden door then shook his head. Maybe he was over-thinking it.

He slowly reached out and grabbed the handle, relieved when it didn’t shock or kill him. He pushed and, amazingly, the door swung open. His eyebrows rose in surprise as he looked around.

With a shrug, he quickly searched for what he needed.

* * *

Malfoy sighed sadly as he left the Slytherin dorms, holding the rest of his son’s things in a small box in his pocket. That task was finally complete. He was quite tired now and did not feel like walking all the way to Hogsmeade to Apparate, so he headed back to Snape’s rooms.

He rounded the corner, stopping abruptly when he found the door to Snape’s stores open. He frowned. Was someone really stupid enough to steal from Severus Snape? Also, why wasn’t the professor there? He had an alarm that alerted him to thieves. Had the thief found a way to disable it?

He backed away, peeking around just enough to spot whoever it was.

The small stature and messy hair shocked him.

Potter?

Why would Potter be stealing potions from Snape and what exactly had he taken?

He watched, curious, as the boy put vials into his pockets and closed the storeroom door.

Malfoy considered what to do. Should he stop the boy? Should he demand the boy return what he stole? Should he get Severus? Should he bring the boy to Severus? He quickly made a decision as he saw Potter begin to walk away.

“Mr. Potter,” he called out, stepping out into the hall. The boy spun, almost toppling over, his eyes wide. “A late hour to be so far from your Tower.”

He watched as the child continued to gape and steadily paled in fear. He felt some pity for the boy as he could imagine what was going through the child’s mind. Normally, he would ignore such situations but something was telling him to make sure this was investigated. Something was going on with Potter and it went beyond being pushed into a wall by schoolmates.

“Come along, Mr. Potter,” he said gently.

Potter began to violently shake his head and he frowned. What was wrong with this child?

* * *

Harry felt physically sick and his entire body was shaking. How could he have been caught? How could he have been stupid enough to not check the map? What would happen now? Mr. Malfoy was friends with Snape, surely he would be brought to the Potions master. They might even call Dumbledore! This couldn’t be happening! He had to find a way out, a way to stop them all from finding out.

Unintentionally, his stomach rolled with the stress and fear, and he was suddenly throwing up. Tears streamed down his face and he folded into a ball on the floor. How much worse could this get? None of them could find out what happened in Privet Drive.

Especially Snape. He was finally proving himself to the man, proving he wasn’t stupid or weak, and he was his own person. Snape would be disgusted if he knew Harry couldn’t handle a couple Muggles. And that was if Snape believed him! Things would end if Snape didn’t believe him. Snape would hate him again and he couldn’t go back to that! He couldn’t handle Snape hating him again, not now he had an adult that seemed to kind of care. He couldn’t lose that.

He buried his face in his knees as he sobbed. He jumped violently when a hand landed on his shoulder.

“Everything’s alright, Potter,” Mr. Malfoy said gently. “Just take some deep breaths and calm down. Everything will be alright.”

Harry forced himself to listen, well, kind of. Mr. Malfoy had a similar effect on his as Snape. Something about the man caused him to relax. As such, it wasn’t long before he was breathing normally with a few tears falling quietly down his face. Once calmer, he peeked over his knees at the blonde man. The grey eyes—so much like Draco’s—were carefully watching him and were full of patience and even kindness.

“Alright now?” Mr. Malfoy said and Harry gave a tiny nod. Mr. Malfoy smiled. “Good. We’re going to see Professor Snape—“

Harry had started shaking his head again, his eyes wild.

Mr. Malfoy moved his hand to Harry’s knee. “Calm down. It’ll be alright. I will talk to him. He will not be angry with you. I will explain and he won’t be angry. Remember, I’m friends with the professor so I know how to talk to him.”

Harry stared at him, gauging the sincerity. After several moments he nodded, making Mr. Malfoy smile again.

“Very good,” the man said. “Come on now.”

Harry shakily got to his feet with the help of Mr. Malfoy and he grabbed his fallen invisibility cloak. With a comforting hand on his back, Harry was led down the corridor to Snape’s quarters. He shrunk in on himself the best he could as they entered the rooms and Snape came in. He watched as Mr. Malfoy went to the professor and they talked in hushed tones. Several expressions crossed Snape’s face and Harry shifted uncomfortably, wrapping his arms around himself tightly. Soon the men parted and approached Harry who look at them anxiously.

Mr. Malfoy took a moment to kneel in front of Harry. “He wants to talk with you. He is not angry, I promise.”

Harry glanced at Snape’s familiar stoic expression nervously. He nodded at Mr. Malfoy a few moments later. The man smiled and squeezed Harry’s shoulder before swirling away through the Floo. Harry turned back to Snape, biting his lip as Snape stepped forward.

“Shall we sit, Mr. Potter?” Snape said, gesturing to their usual spots.

Harry sunk into his chair. Yes, it was now _his_ chair. They had discussed it the other day. It had been a pleasant conversation. Somehow he knew this would not be as pleasant.

“Tell me about the Dursleys,” the professor said.

He had been right.

“They hurt me.”

His eyes fell shut after the whisper. He honestly hadn’t planned on saying anything. He had resolved to keep his long-kept secret. In that split second, however, something had changed. He didn’t know what it was but it made him speak his admission. The truth was out. Would he be believed?

“Tell me.”

The tone was so gentle, so _caring_ …

Harry’s eyes flew open and to the professor. The look in the man’s eyes, the look he had seen many times this year and had been unable to identify, caused his eyes to burn and fill with tears. They spilled over out of his control.

“You-you believe me?” he choked out and even more tears fell as Snape’s dark eyes softened.

“Why wouldn’t I?”

“No-no one ever h-has.”

“And I am truly sorry that you have been let down so terribly and that _I_ am among those who have done so.”

Harry’s chest ached, both in pain and joy. “You’re the only one who hasn’t.”

Snape gave him a small, gentle smile. “You have a very large heart, child. Now, do you think you can tell me?”

Harry didn’t speak but kept his gaze on Snape. Could he really tell someone? Could he finally share his pain, his sadness, his loneliness? Could he finally have someone—an adult—to trust, to confide in, to go to for help and comfort? Could he finally have what he had wanted all his life?

The silence was long and Snape had begun to think the boy wouldn’t say anything. Then the quiet story started and Snape was horrifically enthralled. Once given the chance, it seemed the boy had to release it all. Everything, every terrible detail, came out and the sad life of Harry Potter was pieced together.

Neglect, beatings, insults, lies, emotional trauma, the cupboard, the yelling, starvation…

Snape had sat back on the sofa, a hand over his mouth in horror as the story went on and on. The boy never stopped crying as he spoke but it all seemed to be a cleanse of sorts. It was all being released. This unbearable burden was being released because he was no longer alone.

It had to have been nearly a half hour later when Harry finally stopped speaking. A depressive, heavy silence descended. With a glance at his professor, Harry slowly got out of his chair and just quietly walked into the guestroom he had once stayed in. He crawled onto the bed and rolled onto his back, staring blankly at the ceiling, tears still leaking out the corners of his eyes.

* * *

Snape’s head was spinning and racing, and he couldn’t hold a single thought for more than a few seconds. He couldn’t put all he had heard into any form of coherence. It wasn’t as though this were new territory for him. It was actually quite familiar. He handled abused students of varying degrees of severity every year…in Slytherin. He never would have guessed that _Harry Potter_ could be abused and definitely not so severely. He had fallen into the same trap as everyone else, instantly assuming the boy had a charmed life and missing all the signs the boy had tried and failed to hide.

He knew abuse could happen to anyone and he knew how to identify it.

So how could he have let such a case slip by him?

How could they have all failed the child so badly? They had all left him alone without a single adult to turn to. They pretended they were there for the boy but none of them were, not in the ways Potter truly needed.

In all of this, an abused Harry Potter had slid to the side and, in doing so, he had slid into the preconceived notion that he was charmed, special, and beyond needing adult help and intervention.

How careless and utterly wrong and blind they had all made themselves, and not one of them had a reason or excuse. There were none.

It was inexcusable.

He ran his hand over his face and through his hair, shaking his head sadly.

The poor child. It was a wonder Potter had survived and turned into the quiet, kind, open-hearted person he had discovered the child to be. There must’ve been a small, virtually unknown part of him that had unconsciously held onto the hope that, maybe, things would get better one day.

Snape stared at the fire with a far-away gaze. The boy had to be helped. He had to be removed from the Muggles’ care. He had to be healed, physically and mentally and emotionally. He had to be taken care of.

He pushed himself up off the sofa and walked into the guestroom. He watched the boy’s eyes track him calmly as he sat on the edge of the bed. Snape looked down at the child, unexpectedly reaching out and brushing the tears from the boy’s cheek. Their eyes remained locked.

“I’ll help you,” Snape said quietly.

“’Harry’,” the boy whispered, “and I know.”

“Harry.”

* * *

Harry watched the clouds move across the sky as he leaned on the railing of the Astronomy Tower. It was a nice day considering it was only January although a cloak was still needed to block the wind. He glanced over at the Quidditch Pitch where some students were soaring through the air. He felt something urging him to get on a broom again, a feeling he hadn’t had since Ron died.

A lot seemed to have changed inside him. He felt…lighter, as though something that had been weighing him down had disappeared. Something had shifted, ever since that day with Snape. He never thought he would ever tell someone about the Dursleys but now he had, he was relieved of the burden he hadn’t even known was a burden. He supposed it also had to do with Snape and their relationship. He had things with Snape he had always wanted. He could go to Snape, he had trust in the man, Snape could and would help him…

Harry smiled to himself, watching an owl fly by into the Owlery. For the first time, he had an adult in his life. He had someone to turn to and take care of him. It was what he had always wanted though the fact that it was Snape was still somewhat shocking. Regardless, he finally had someone.

He frowned as his scar tingled then gasped as it burned with pain. As he wasn’t asleep, there was no image to go with the pain. It was rare that his scar hurt for no reason while he was awake. He needed to read more of Mulligan’s book and find out exactly what kind of trouble he could find himself in from his scar. The more he read, the more positive he became that he had a piece of Voldemort’s soul inside his scar. Even in his own head it sounded insane.

He rubbed his forehead, shaking his head as he eased the pain. He was distracted by a strange, high-pitched sound and then a black figure burst into the sky from the Forbidden Forest. He furrowed his eyebrows, trying to identify the creature but he had never seen anything like it. It was completely black with huge, thin, and boney wings. The entire body appeared skeletal. What was it and, if it lived in the Forest, how had he never seen one before?

“Magnificent, isn’t it?”

He turned his head and spotted Luna who came over to stand beside him.

“You mean the black thing?”

Luna nodded.

“Yeah, it’s amazing but what is it?”

“It’s a Thestral. They’re commonly seen as bad omens.”

“Thestral,” Harry repeated, looking back at the still soaring creature. “What are they?”

“Very gentle creatures,” Luna said. “They have the reputation they do because of the nature of their existence.”

“What do you mean?”

“Only those who have seen death can see Thestrals.”

 _Draco_ , he thought instantly.

“So, you’ve…”

She nodded again. “My mother. An experiment gone wrong.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I miss her but I still have Daddy. She was wonderful while I had her.”

Harry gave her a small smile.

“You two will have a wonderful life.”

He looked at her but didn’t question it. She knew what she was talking about and he would learn.

“Someone’s hurt,” she said suddenly and his gaze flew to the grounds. He just managed to spot familiar blonde hair disappear into the castle.


	13. Chapter 12

“Luna, I-I have to go,” he said before racing from the Tower. He ran down the spiral staircase, his mind spinning as he attempted to guess what was going on. He didn’t know why he cared. It was only Mr. Malfoy. They barely knew each other and had only had one pleasant conversation which had only happened in Mr. Malfoy’s grief. Yet his heart was pounding painfully with the idea of Mr. Malfoy being hurt. He slid around the final corner to the Hospital Wing and found Snape just leaving the wing.

“Potter!” Snape said, grabbing the boy’s arm. “What is going on?”

“’Harry’,” he said off-handedly, “and I should be asking that. What’s happened? Is Mr. Malfoy okay?”

“Harry, calm down,” Snape said, releasing the child. “Lucius is fine. He is not the one in need of help.”

“Then what’s wrong?”

“It is Narcissa,” Snape said. “She has attempted to take her life.”

“Is she going to die?” Harry said quietly.

“I hope not but I cannot say for sure,” Snape said. “She has taken an extremely deadly poison that has gotten into her blood stream. I must make the antidote.”

“Well, that’s good, right?” Harry said. “You know what it is and what antidote it is, so she’ll be okay.”

Snape sighed. “There is a very limited time in which to administer the antidote. I believe I can do it in time but there can still be issues.”

“So, it could go either way?”

Snape nodded. “I must go.”

“Yeah, go. Save her.”

Snape squeezed Harry’s arm before sweeping away to the dungeons. Once gone, Harry turned back to the Hospital Wing and slowly pushed through one of the doors. He peeked around the door, spotting Mr. Malfoy standing next to a bed and quietly talking to Madam Pomfrey. He slipped in and walked over to the Malfoy patriarch, gazing down at Mrs. Malfoy. He felt a pang in his heart at the sight of her. She was pale and unconscious and, quite frankly, already looked dead. Both her eyes were a dark, dark blue as though she had been hit hard. Beneath the obscenely white skin were tiny black tendrils throughout her face.

“Mr. Potter, how kind of you to come,” Mr. Malfoy said.

“I thought it was you hurt at first,” Harry said. “Did you—“

“Find her?” Harry nodded. “I did.”

“I’m sorry,” Harry said. “It must’ve been terrible and so soon after…Draco.”

The man’s already drawn face fell further into sadness.

“Yes, it has been quite a difficult time,” Mr. Malfoy said. “On another note, I hear you and Professor Snape have made some progress.”

Harry unintentionally smiled a little. “He’s been really great.”

“I am glad to see the two of you getting along so well. You are good for each other. Believe me, he needs someone too.”

Harry looked at him. “Really?”

Mr. Malfoy nodded. “I won’t say too much as it is his story to tell, but he has had a very lonely life like you.”

What had happened in Professor Snape’s life? The man seemed to understand his situation so maybe Snape had gone through something similar. Maybe one day he would find out.

“I’d like to thank you for coming and for your concern, Mr. Potter,” Mr. Malfoy said. “It was unexpected but much appreciated.”

“Well, we may not have much between us but I still want you both to be alright. You’ve been kind to me, even since Draco,” Harry said. “I don’t have many people in my life, especially adults.”

Mr. Malfoy smiled at him and put a hand on Harry’s back. “You are quite a remarkable child and very strong considering your hardships this year. I am pleased to help you how I can.”

Harry blinked owlishly then quirked a tiny smile. How had he come to have more adults to care for him than he had ever hoped for? How had things changed so much and so fast?

* * *

“Potter!”

Harry turned his head to see Seamus Finnigan and a couple other Gryffindors leave their spots and come join him in his isolated place at the end of Gryffindor table.

“Can I help you, Seamus?” Harry said, slightly stand-offish. Seamus had been one of the first to turn on him for being a champion and was one of the most vocal about it. When he beat the dragon, Seamus suddenly changed his mind and supported him as a champion. However, he still heard Seamus agreeing with those that blamed him for Ron _and_ Draco. Suffice to say Seamus wasn’t one of his favourite people.

“Hear the Malfoys are in the Hospital Wing,” Seamus said, sitting across from Harry. “It true?”

“What does it matter?” Harry said.

“It matters because we’ve also heard you’ve been paying them some visits,” Seamus said. “See, if that’s true then that would make you a traitor.”

Harry took a final bite of his breakfast and pushed his plate away, looking at the Irish boy. “I thought I already was one?”

“And we thought you were redeeming yourself,” Seamus snapped.

Harry glared at the other Gryffindor. “I have nothing to redeem myself for.” He suddenly heard Snape’s comforting voice in his head. “Nothing that’s happened has been my fault.”

Some part of him was finally starting to believe it, after all the times Snape had said it.

Seamus’ face twisted and he leaned threateningly across the table towards Harry. “It is _all always_ your fault. All the danger and death follows you because the dark is after _you_. You have caused all of this and the time is coming that you face the consequences for those you’ve killed and _not_ killed.”

Harry frowned. “Who am I not killing?”

“The Malfoys, who you’re clearly becoming pals with.”

“I’m not killing anyone.”

“You should but get it right this time.

“I haven’t killed _anyone_.”

“We all beg to differ.”

With a snarl, Seamus and the others got up and left. Harry watched them go with his own hurt glare. He knew people still blamed him for Ron and Draco but he hadn’t realized the extent of it. To be getting threats from his own house. With a sigh, he ran a hand through his hair then left the Great Hall. Without realizing, he found himself heading outside. Luckily he had an old, thick Weasley sweater on to protect against the winter chill. He walked along the lake, stopping near the tree and gazing down at the ground. He crouched down and brushed away the light layer of snow covering the engraved stone. He ran his fingers over Ron’s name before standing back up.

He wasn’t sure he would ever fully believe that Ron was truly gone. He still found himself wanting to go to Ron and tell him everything before remembering it was impossible. He would never get over losing Ron. How did you get over the death of your best friend? There were so many things in life they should’ve experienced together. They were only fourteen. There were so many things that still had to come to pass. Fourteen is young.

He sighed and crossed his arms across his chest, almost defensively. He was glad he had Snape, though, someone who clearly understood.

“Mr. Potter, it seems we both had the same idea.”

Harry looked up at Mr. Malfoy who stopped beside him. The man gently used his foot to push the snow from his son’s stone beside Ron’s.

“Seems like,” Harry said, turning back to Ron’s stone.

“You know, I never wanted Draco to have the childhood and life I had,” Mr. Malfoy said. “I knew it was likely he would become more like a Malfoy than I wanted simply because of the circumstances he grew up under. His mother, however, went way beyond just spoiling him.”

“What kind of childhood did you have? What was so bad about it?” Harry said.

“I suppose anyone outside would scoff at the idea of there being anything wrong with my life,” Mr. Malfoy said and Harry gave a small shrug in agreement. “My father was not a nice man and not much of a father, quite frankly. I’ve worried I would make all the same mistakes and, in some cases, I have.”

“Like what?”

“In my effort to _not_ be my father, I failed to effectively discipline Draco. He needed discipline, I know, but I was afraid I would lose control.”

Harry glanced at him. “I think I’d be the same if I ever have kids. Hard to know what to do when you’ve never had a good example.”

“Many of us are in the same frame of mind,” Mr. Malfoy said and Harry frowned, wondering who else the man was referring to. “In any case, I allowed Draco to take advantage of his advantages, and did nothing to stop it or his mother. His mother encouraged his behaviour.”

“If it helps, I think he was growing up and realizing his act wasn’t working,” Harry said.

Mr. Malfoy gave him a gentle look. “I think you had a lot to do with that.”

“Really?”

Mr. Malfoy nodded. “Your ability to stand up to his ridiculous behaviour continued to knock him down. He needed it.”

Harry gave a half-smile. “I don’t like bullies.”

Mr. Malfoy’s face crumbled slightly. “I can only imagine and I am so very sorry he was one.”

“Yeah,” Harry said quietly. “He’s probably driving Ron insane.”

Mr. Malfoy chuckled. “They could be fairly volatile.”

Harry grinned a little. “They loved going at each other. They might’ve made good friends if they’d had the chance.”

“I think you all could’ve been,” Mr. Malfoy said.

 _But we’ll never know_ , Harry thought sadly.

* * *

Harry sunk into his chair and sipped his tea. He leaned his head back and relaxed for the time being, ignoring the various texts he had on the coffee table. He had a ton of research to do…but it could wait. For now, he wanted to enjoy the comfort and solitude of Snape’s rooms.

“And how are we today?” Snape asked.

“Fine. Threatened by some Gryffindors, visited Ron, and chatted with Mr. Malfoy, all before lunch. A fairly productive day, if I do say so myself,” Harry said, aloof and not recognizing Snape’s alarmed expression.

“Threatened?”

“Just Seamus. He’s harmless, mostly due to incapability. I’ll be fine,” Harry said, shrugging. “I’ve got more important people to worry about.”

Snape frowned. “Such as?”

“I think Moody could potentially be a problem,” Harry said, noticing the man’s frown deepen. “I have nothing to prove anything; just my feelings whenever I’m around him.”

“Have you brought your concerns to anyone?” Snape said.

“You, right now,” Harry said and Snape shot him a disapproving glare. “Because I should be saying something every time I feel somewhat weird around someone?”

“No, only when you feel threatened or in danger. Has he done anything?”

“No, and that’s why I haven’t said anything. It’s just how I feel when I’m around him. He just makes me uncomfortable but he hasn’t done anything _to_ me.”

“But you have seen him do something?”

“Not exactly. I just saw him with Karkaroff who is less than stellar himself in a storeroom. It just seemed odd.”

“He was with Karkaroff?” Harry nodded. “What were they doing?”

“I don’t know. It seemed like I caught the end of whatever it was,” Harry said with a shrug. “They had been looking at Karkaroff’s arm though.”

Harry frowned when he noticed Snape put a hand on his left forearm.

“It was probably nothing,” Snape said. Harry recognized the man’s voice had become somewhat shaky. Something about the situation was clearly bothering him. “Speaking of storerooms, have you taken any ingredients from mine?”

Harry’s eyebrows crinkled in confusion. “What? No, why would I?”

“I would have originally thought so you could attempt to make the potions you had tried to steal.”

Harry flushed and dropped his eyes. “I wouldn’t be able to brew them. I’m no good at brewing, remember? Besides, you said you would help and…I trust you.”

Snape blinked at the boy in surprise. He knew the child had difficulties trusting people, especially adults. A part of him was touched that he had managed to gain such a fragile gift.

“What was stolen?”

Harry’s voice interrupted his thoughts. “Pardon?”

“What ingredients were stolen?” the boy repeated. “The way you were talking, doesn’t seem like it was just ingredients for Pain Relievers.”

“No, it wasn’t,” Snape said. “The ingredients missing point towards Polyjuice Potion.”

“Polyjuice Potion! Why would I need that?” Harry said, instantly flashing back to second year.

Snape rolled his eyes. “I know it was you and your friends that stole the same ingredients two years ago.” Harry turned bright red. “I don’t want to know why you were brewing Polyjuice Potion at twelve years old.”

Harry gave a small grin and shrugged a shoulder. “So,” he moved on, “if someone’s stealing your ingredients then they’re obviously in the castle.”

“It would appear so.” Snape nodded.

“That means someone isn’t who they say they are,” Harry said in realization, his eyes growing wide. “Do you think whoever it is, is the one who entered me in the tournament?”

“It is very likely,” Snape said. “I don’t image there are many other reasons to use Polyjuice to get inside Hogwarts.”

Harry swallowed thickly and stared at the fire. Whoever this person was, he could be interacting with them on a daily basis and have no idea they were Polyjuiced.

“Is it possible to tell if someone is under Polyjuice Potion?” Harry asked.

“There are…ways but they rely on someone having a personal, intimate knowledge of either participant, either the real person or the Polyjuice persona. Differences in behaviour or mannerisms could be detected,” Snape explained. “Because the potion doesn’t change those kinds of things, right?”

“Right. Polyjuice is strictly physical changes. It cannot change one’s mentality or behaviour.”

“So, say someone had some kind of chronic body movement…”

“The potion would not change it. The body movement would still happen under the potion’s persona,” Snape said and looked at him curiously. “Do you have someone in particular in mind?”

“No, no,” Harry said quickly. “Just thinking.”

Snape hummed though it was clear he didn’t completely believe Harry. “If you did think of something, you would tell me?”

Harry smiled and nodded.

* * *

“He said he trusts me,” Snape said, handing a glass of wine to his friend.

“And that’s a bad thing?” Malfoy said, confused.

“Not necessarily,” Snape said. “It is unexpected. He is not one that trusts adults.”

“So, what exactly is the problem?” Malfoy said. “You should be elated that you have gained his trust. You care for each other. This is a good thing.”

“The problem is this.” Snape pulled back the sleeve on his left arm, revealing a faded but still clear Dark Mark. He scowled down at the tattoo that had slowly been regaining colour all year. What would Harry think when he found out?

“Why would it be an issue?” Malfoy said. “He knows about me and he’s fine with it. He understands.”

“You didn’t kill his parents!” Snape snapped.

Malfoy’s face hardened. “We’ve been over this, Severus. You did not cause the Potters’ deaths.”

“I was involved,” Snape said.

“You did what you had to do to survive,” Malfoy said.

“And that excuses me leading them to their deaths?” Snape said. “Harry could have grown up with his parents.”

“No, he wouldn’t have,” Malfoy said and Snape looked at him sharply.

“What are you talking about?”

Malfoy sighed. “Whether Voldemort had known the prophecy or not, he still would’ve gone after the Potters and Longbottoms. They were powerful enemies that would have stood in his way. It all would’ve happened just as it did.”

Snape turned back to the fireplace. “I don’t think Harry will see it that way.”

“Maybe he will. Will you tell him?”

“I have to, or he’ll find out some other way.”

“How?”

“Voldemort is gaining power and he has followers inside this school,” Snape said. “It will come out from someone. I have to tell him before that happens and he has to know before I continue with my plan.”

Malfoy frowned. “Who’s in the school?”

“Karkaroff, for one,” Snape said. “Who would have no qualms taking us down. There’s also whoever is under Polyjuice Potion.”

“You think whoever it is, is a follower?” Malfoy said.

“Why else would they use Polyjuice?”

Malfoy nodded in agreement.

“Whoever they are, they pose a danger to Harry,” Snape said.

“Think they’ll try something?”

Snape’s expression turned thoughtful. “I don’t think so. I think they’re in the midst of their plan, something to do with Harry having to be in the Triwizard Tournament.”

“Hoping he’ll be killed?” Malfoy said.

Snape shook his head. “I don’t think so but I don’t know what their goal is.”

“Hopefully we won’t find out,” Malfoy said and Snape nodded.

* * *

Harry rubbed his forehead with a deep sigh as his scar burned. It seemed to be happening more often during the day lately and the nightmares were only continuing. Voldemort’s power was growing and so was their connection. At this point, he was almost positive that a piece of Voldemort’s soul had latched onto him and was in his scar. He wanted to ask Snape to help him make the potion that would confirm it. He wanted to know so he could find a way to remove it. Things could get really bad the longer he played host.

He sighed again, knocking on the office door but entering before receiving a response. He was automatically heading for his chair but stopped abruptly when he noticed Mr. Malfoy.

“Oh, hello, sir,” Harry said to the blonde. “Sorry, is this not a good time?”

“No, no,” Snape said, shaking his head. “We were just chatting. Take a seat. Lucius, you will have to vacate Harry’s chair.”

Harry blushed. “No, it’s alright, really. I can sit somewhere else.”

Mr. Malfoy waved his hand and rose from the chair. “Not a problem, Mr. Potter. I would not wish to displace you from your favourite spot.”

Still slightly pink, Harry quirked a small smile and sank into his chair. He watched curiously out the corner of his eye as Mr. Malfoy whispered to Snape, the Potions master’s face hardening slightly. It wasn’t in anger, however, but as though he were steeling himself for something. The man’s eyes flickered to him and Harry felt himself tense in anticipation for what he felt was going to be an unpleasant conversation.

“I am off for the evening,” Mr. Malfoy said suddenly. “I will see you tomorrow, Severus. Have a good night, Mr. Potter.”

“You too, sir,” Harry said.

With a smile, Mr. Malfoy left the rooms through the door rather than the Floo.

 _Odd, he usually takes the Floo_ , Harry thought absently.

“How are you, Harry?” Snape said.

“Hm? Oh, I’m fine,” Harry said. “Actually, I wanted to ask you something.”

“What is it?”

“It’s a potion,” Harry said. “It’s a complicated potion and I’d never be able to brew it myself. I was hoping you could help me.”

“And what is this potion?”

“It identifies the presence of a foreign soul.”

A heavy silence fell as Snape digested the information. “A foreign soul?”

“That book I’ve been reading by Mulligan?” Snape nodded. “Not just light reading. Things have changed this year with my scar.”

“How so?”

“It started hurting over the summer, burning. It happens more often now. I’ve also had nightmares that I don’t think are just nightmares. My scar hurts a lot when I wake up from them.”

“Why do you think they are more than nightmares?”

“I’ve had at least one confirmed to have actually happened.”

Snape frowned.

Harry sighed. “I had this nightmare over the summer. I was in a house and there was a Muggle. He went up to this room and Pettigrew, another man, and Voldemort were there. Voldemort wasn’t human and he was talking to the one man, giving him a job. He was telling the man he wanted me. They ended up noticing the Muggle and Voldemort killed him. I mentioned this to Draco at one point and he said it actually happened, Pettigrew told his father about it.”

“A vision of sorts?” Snape said and Harry shrugged.

“Maybe. It’s something and it points to some connection between me and Voldemort. From everything that I’ve read, it’s more than likely I have a part of Voldemort’s soul in my scar. I think it happened when he tried to kill me as a baby.”

“Is that possible?”

“Apparently,” Harry said with another sigh. “I don’t know the entire process but I know it involves murder. Heavy stuff.”

“And this potion?”

“It will confirm the presence of any other soul or soul fragment besides my own. Will you help?”

“I will, but,” Snape said, taking a deep breath, “there is something I must tell you.”

Harry frowned and felt his stomach turn, feeling unsettled again. Whatever he was about to hear, it was serious. He tensed when Snape leaned forward towards him.

“I have made grave mistakes in my life but there is one I have regretted above all. I am a selfish man and I made selfish choices. I try but I know I will never be redeemed,” Snape said, his voices low.

Harry swallowed thickly.

“I knew your mother when we were children and when we came to Hogwarts. I made a mistake in our fifth year and it ended our friendship. We never spoke again. The loss combined with my already difficult childhood pushed me down a terrible path and to make a disastrous choice. To progress in my position and to survive, I made another decision that became a part of the reason your parents were killed.”

Harry’s stomach dropped and his expression began to harden. With what appeared to be guilt, remorse, and fear in his eyes, Snape pulled back the sleeve on his left arm. Harry felt his world spin out of control as his gaze found the darkening tattoo on the professor’s forearm.

The Dark Mark.

His eyes burned and filled as he raised them to Snape’s face. The man’s face was pained but Harry didn’t take notice. His ears were ringing and his head was pounding. He found himself shaking his head and getting unsteadily to his feet. He couldn’t believe it; it couldn’t be true. He could _trust_ Snape; Snape was helping him and _cared_ about him. He couldn’t be a Death Eater!

“Harry—“

“No,” Harry whispered, still shaking his head. “No.”

“Harry—“

Without speaking, Harry ran past the sofa and Snape, and out of the rooms. He raced out of the dungeons, heading up to Gryffindor Tower. He stumbled up the stairs in his effort to get away. His vision blurred as tears filled his eyes, a deep sob rising in his throat. He gasped as he crashed into a hard chest, almost falling backwards down the stairs before a scarred, gnarled hand grabbed his arm.

“P-Professor,” Harry said. “I-I’m sorry.”

“Somethin’ the matter, Potter?” Moody growled.

“Just got some-some bad news,” Harry said, trying to hold back his tears.

“Finally learned the truth about that snake Snape?” Moody said and Harry looked up at him with a frown. The man’s tongue was darting out and his face was twisting. Harry felt a jolt in his stomach and he tried to pull away. “All this time he’s had you in reach and he’s done nothin’. Our lord will be so disappointed but I will be able to do what all others have failed to.”

Harry felt a stab of fear and made a final attempt to escape, but he failed and found himself suddenly falling. He saw a flash of a maniacal grin on Moody’s face before there was a crack of pain in his skull, and everything went black.


	14. Chapter 13

“Headmaster, Potter cannot return to his Muggle relatives,” Snape said. “They are abusive towards the boy.”

Dumbledore gave Snape a steady look. “I know.”

Snape’s eyes hardened. “You know?”

Dumbledore clasped his hands on his desk. “I haven’t completely ignored the boy since I placed him in Privet Drive. I have kept watch to ensure no danger has entered that house.”

“And you’ve done nothing?” Snape snarled.

“What is it you expected me to do?” Dumbledore said, leaning back in his chair.

“Stop it! Take him away! Anything besides letting him be beaten all his life!” Snape shouted. “I had hoped you would have learned after me!”

“He cannot leave Privet Drive,” Dumbledore said. “And there was nowhere you could have gone.”

“You know as well as I do that I could have become a ward of Hogwarts and the same could be done for Potter,” Snape said in a dangerously low voice.

“The Ministry will not allow Harry to become a ward of the school,” Dumbledore said.

“The Ministry does not have a say in it, which you know perfectly well.” Snape glared. “Why do you refuse to help the boy?”

Dumbledore’s face became steely. “I am helping him. I am helping him learn to survive. He needs the strength to fight and survive the war that is coming.”

“Do not put a man’s war on a child,” Snape said.

“It was done the moment that prophecy was brought to Voldemort.”

Snape took a physical step back at the harsh words and he knew pain had crossed his face. He had no time to respond as the office door opened behind him, admitting Lucius Malfoy.

“My apologies for interrupting,” Malfoy said. “Severus, something has happened.”

“What is it?” Snape said.

“It’s Harry,” Malfoy said. “He’s in the Hospital Wing. He’s been hurt.”

Snape felt his heart drop and he swiftly followed Malfoy down to the Hospital Wing. He couldn’t believe the suffocating fear he was feeling at the thought of Harry being hurt. He didn’t question it anymore; he knew what it meant. He knew he cared about the child. He was surprised _how much_ he cared but that was all.

They rushed into the Wing and over to the bed occupied by an unconscious Harry. Madam Pomfrey was still treating the wounds Harry had acquired. The boy’s arm was bent at a strange angle and there was a large gash running from his right temple into his hair.

“What happened?” Snape asked.

“I found him,” Malfoy said, “at the bottom of some stairs. Seems he fell.”

“He only just left my rooms an hour or so ago,” Snape said. “How did this happen?”

“I do not believe he fell,” Pomfrey said and both men frowned deeply. “From his injuries, it appears he hit the stairs backwards but much harder than if he had simply fallen. I believe he was pushed.”

“Pushed?” Malfoy said, startled. “Who would do such a thing?”

“Unfortunately there are many,” Snape said. “How is he, Poppy?”

The woman sighed. “He is very bruised and his arm is broken. However, the worst is his head. He hit it very hard and he has a terrible crack in his skull. I won’t know if there are any effects until he wakes up…if he wakes up.”

“He may not?” Malfoy said quietly.

“With the extent of this injury, there is a possibility,” Pomfrey said.

Snape stayed silent and stared down at the child, worried. He gently touched the boy’s hair and then stroked his cheek. The fear was still present and he could tell it wasn’t going to leave anytime soon. He had to know Harry would be alright. The idea of losing the child was unfathomable. He never knew he could care about someone so much, least of all Harry Potter.

Yet it had happened and he wasn’t unhappy about it. The boy had begun to change him for the better.

“You are staying with the boy?” Pomfrey said, stepping back as she finally finished treating Harry’s injuries.

“Yes,” Snape said, automatically pulling up a chair. He watched as Malfoy did the same on the other side of the bed.

“Very well,” Pomfrey said with a nod. “Come get me if anything changes.”

“I will, Poppy,” Snape said and the medi-witch slipped into her office.

“I’m sure he will be fine, Severus,” Malfoy said.

“We don’t know that,” Snape said. “He hit his head so hard. Not even magic can fix such a wound.”

“He’s strong,” Malfoy said. “I’m sure he can pull through.”

“He hasn’t been feeling too strong this year,” Snape said, sighing and lightly brushing Harry’s hair.

Malfoy cast a sad glance at the boy. “What happened? If Harry left your rooms an hour ago, he wasn’t there very long.”

Snape sighed and took his hand away from Harry’s hair as though he may suddenly hurt the boy. “I told him. I told him about the Mark and what I did, what I caused. He didn’t take it well.”

“What did he say?” Malfoy asked.

“Nothing, he just ran.”

Malfoy looked at his friend sympathetically, catching the sad expression the man had as he stared down at Harry. It was fascinating watching their relationship grow. They needed each other so desperately and didn’t even know it.

“Give him some time to process,” Malfoy said.

“He may not have time!” Snape shouted jumping to his feet. “This may be it and the last thing he’ll remember about me is something terrible.”

Malfoy just reached out and clasped Harry’s hand, hoping to provide some comfort as he watched his friend.

“I could never be his guardian, especially now,” Snape whispered before sweeping out of the infirmary.

* * *

_“Got yourself in some trouble this time,” Ron said, throwing stones as far as he could._

_“When don’t I?” Harry said, staring up at the dark, cloudy sky. “I don’t remember everything.”_

_“Hit your head pretty hard, mate, it’s not surprising,” Ron said._

_“Am I going to die?”_

_“I hope not. You should be able to wake up if you listen.”_

_“Listen? Listen to what?”_

_“Lucius and Snape. You’ll hear them when you’re ready.”_

_Harry tensed at the mention of Snape. He looked at Ron when he heard a deep sigh._

_“Why did you run away from Snape that night?” Ron asked._

_“Because he’s a Death Eater! He told me and showed me the Mark!” Harry said loudly._

_“You hurt him by running.”_

_“Like I care. He probably doesn’t even care about me, just working for his ‘Lord’.”_

_“Harry,” Ron said with a sigh. “Having the Mark doesn’t mean Death Eater.”_

_“That’s the only thing it means. Why else would someone have it?”_

_“A mistake,” Ron said and Harry looked at him, eyebrows furrowed. “Protecting a family? There are other reasons. Mr. Malfoy, for instance, has some other reasons which you’ve accepted. So why are you judging Snape?”_

_Harry didn’t answer for a time, looking out into the dim distance in thought. Why was he judging Snape when he didn’t judge Mr. Malfoy? They had the same Mark, had followed the same madman, had both apparently turned away from that side…so what was different? He hadn’t even let Snape tell him everything; he’d just run away._

_He was always running away and what had it ever gotten him? Loneliness, sadness, distance from people who had only tried to care about him…_

_That’s all Snape had clearly been trying and learning to do. They had both been learning. Learning to care and let someone into their lives. And at the first sign of something difficult, he ran. He had expected Snape would be the one to pull away but it had been him. He had focused on the bad and had completely ignored the fact that Snape had said he had known Harry’s mother. Someone knew his mother rather than his father! Sure, everyone had known them both, but it was only ever James that was really talked about._

_“Harry?”_

_He turned to look at Ron again._

_“You have a chance,” Ron said, “if you give him a chance.”_

* * *

Harry’s eyes slowly slid open, cringing at the bright light that made his head pound. A searing pain ran steadily through his skull and he groaned. The agony was making the voices around him muffled and all images were blurry beyond recognition. He also couldn’t seem to capture a single thought. It was all a jumbled, incoherent mess and it hurt to even try.

“Harry? Don’t try to move, dear, just stay still and relax,” a feminine voice said gently.

“Wha’—“

“You had a bit of a nasty fall down some stairs,” the woman said. “You hit your head very hard.”

He fell down stairs? When? How?

“Are you in pain?” the voice asked.

“Yeah,” Harry rasped.

“Here’s a potion for the pain.” Cool glass was pressed against his lips and he managed to part them just enough to swallow the liquid. “Very good, dear. I’m going to ask you some questions to make sure you have no permanent damage from your head wound.”

Harry gave a short nod, grateful for the fast-acting potion.

“What is your name?”

“Harry-Harry James Potter.”

“What is your age?”

“I’m four-fourteen.”

“What year is it?”

“Nineteen ninety-five.”

“Very good. You seem to be alright but you will still be here for at least another week.”

Harry nodded again, blinking as his vision finally cleared. He spotted Madam Pomfrey first, watching her walk to her office. He slowly moved one and was shocked to see Mr. Malfoy and Snape on either side of his bed.

“How’re you feeling, Mr. Potter?” Mr. Malfoy asked.

But Harry didn’t answer. His eyes were locked on Snape. There were stirrings in his chest and in his mind. He could tell there was something he was forgetting, something that happened while he was unconscious, and he knew it was important but he just couldn’t remember. However, he _did_ remember that Snape had the Dark Mark and he couldn’t help the fearful, betrayed feeling he had.

“Harry?” Snape said.

“Get out,” Harry said quietly, hurt bleeding into his voice.

“Harry—“

“Get out! Leave me alone!” Harry shouted and dropped his eyes to his lap. He missed Snape’s pained face and the way the man looked across at Mr. Malfoy. The blonde gave an uncertain, sympathetic look to his friend, watching as the Potions master slowly left the Hospital Wing. Harry closed his eyes as tears began to fall.

“Mr. P—“

“Just ‘Harry’, please, sir,” Harry whispered. He ran his fingers over the bandaging on his right arm.

“Harry,” Mr. Malfoy conceded. “What is the matter?”

“Nothing, I’m fine,” Harry said shortly.

Mr. Malfoy regarded the child, noticing but not commenting on the tears. He moved his gaze to the bandage on Harry’s temple. Red had started to show through. “How is your head?”

Harry shrugged. “Potion helped. Doesn’t hurt now.”

“Do you remember what happened?”

Harry shook his head. “I remember leaving Snape’s rooms and going up to Gryffindor Tower. I don’t remember falling or being pushed.”

Mr. Malfoy slowly reached up to the bandage then paused. “May I?”

Harry met the man’s eyes. He recognized the expression. He had seen it from Snape several times. His chest ached with the affection and with the slight remorse about Snape. He nodded and kept their eyes connected as Mr. Malfoy’s fingers lightly touched the bandage, and brushed his hair aside. Unintentionally, his eyes closed at the touch, soaking in the gentleness.

“Can you tell me what’s happened between you and Professor Snape?” Mr. Malfoy said, bringing his hand down to rest on the boy’s arm.

Harry’s eyes fell again. “You’ll just take his side.”

“We may be friends but I don’t side with him if he is wrong.”

Harry chewed his lip. Mr. Malfoy was probably one of the best people to talk to about the whole thing. “He told me about the Dark Mark, showed it to me.” He felt tears build up again. “He said he was part of the reason my parents were killed. He-he’s a Death Eater! I thought he cared about me!”

“Harry,” Mr. Malfoy said earnestly, squeezing his arm. “I think you’ve misunderstood.”

“Pretty easy to understand,” Harry snapped, a few tears falling. “Having the Mark doesn’t mean much else.”

“Perhaps, but the reasoning behind getting the Mark may provide a different insight.”

“Why else would someone have it besides being a Death Eater?”

“A mistake? Protecting a family? There are other reasons.”

Harry raised his eyes to Mr. Malfoy with a frown. There was a strong feeling of déjà vu attached to the blonde’s words. It was as though he had heard them before.

“Now, the professor _does_ care about you, very much,” Mr. Malfoy said. “It’s why he told you this. He didn’t want to keep such a secret from you.”

“He said he caused their deaths,” Harry said weakly.

Mr. Malfoy sighed and gave him a sad look. “That is something you will have to talk to him about.”

“I don’t think I can,” Harry said. “How am I supposed to trust him?”

“He hasn’t changed, Harry,” the man said. “He’s still the same man he was before he told you. He’s still the same man that’s been helping you and taking care of you. You just know a little bit more about him.”

“It changes everything!” Harry argued.

“How?” Mr. Malfoy challenged.

“Because he lied! He didn’t tell me! He’s just like everyone else!” A sob tumbled out of his mouth.

“How is he like everyone else?”

“Everyone’s always lied. They’ve never cared. They just want to hurt me.”

“Harry—“

Harry shook his head and pulled his arm away, using it to wipe his damp face. “Just go, Mr. Malfoy, please. I’d rather be alone.”

Mr. Malfoy’s face fell and he let out a deep breath. He pushed himself reluctantly to his feet. “I think it’d be alright if you called me ‘Lucius’. I think we can pass this formality.”

Harry said nothing and kept his eyes locked on his hands. He listened to the man’s steps as they got further away before disappearing. As soon as the silence descended, Harry lay on his side and let the rivers of tears fall freely down his cheeks onto the pillow.

* * *

“Glad to see you back, Potter,” Moody grumbled as Harry walked into the Defense classroom. Harry stared at the old Auror as he took his seat. He glanced at the board and blanched at what was written.

 _Morsmorde_.

This had to be a joke. The man couldn’t possibly be teaching them about the Dark Mark. Was Moody trying to make himself look like a Dark wizard and a follower of Voldemort?

Harry looked around, noticing shocked faces around the room. He frowned deeply at the professor and gave a shake of his head. He grabbed his bag and immediately walked out of the class.

“Potter!” Moody called. “Where d’you think you’re goin’?”

“Not feeling well,” Harry said shortly and left. He leaned against the wall once out in the corridor. He breathed slowly, trying to calm the anxiety that had filled him when he had seen Moody. He’d always been uncomfortable around the man but this was different. It was stronger and more a fear of being harmed. He felt Moody could actually harm him.

He considered what to do and finally decided to go outside. He quickly summoned his cloak as he headed out, smiling a little to himself at how easy it had become. He walked along the Black Lake for a time, still wondering how he was meant to survive in the Second Task. Anything he had found was way too advanced for him to even try.

He looked away and continued on, changing his path to head towards the Quidditch Pitch. He hadn’t been to the pitch much that year with the tournament and everything else. It was empty and he sat in the Gryffindor stands.

As he settled, he glanced at the Slytherin stands. He hadn’t spoken to Lucius—it was still very weird thinking of Mr. Malfoy like that—or Snape in nearly a week. He had finally been released from the Hospital Wing the day before. In his final week there, neither of the men had returned. Despite what had happened, despite having told them to leave, it still hurt to receive no more visits. They were the only adults he had in his life. He didn’t want to lose them.

 _So why are you pushing them away_? Ron’s voice interrupted.

“Harry!”

He looked up and found the Weasley twins heading his way. He smiled as they climbed up a few rows and sat on the one just below him.

“How’s it going, kid?” Fred said.

Harry shrugged. “Alright, I guess.”

“Considering you’re supposed to be in class, something must be going on,” George said and Harry sighed.

“Moody,” Harry said. “I just don’t get very good feelings around him.”

“You’ve noticed it too?” George said, causing Harry to frown at them. “We know Moody, through our dad.”

“And while he’s always been paranoid and crazy,” Fred continued, “there’s something different.”

“What’s different?” Harry said.

“He’s…” The twins looked at each other, “sadistic. He was never sadistic.”

“Dumbledore would know if there was something wrong with Moody, wouldn’t he? He obviously knows Moody,” Harry said.

The twins nodded.

“It’s probably nothing then,” Harry said, looking out to the Pitch. “Probably just paranoid from…everything.”

“Probably,” the twins said.

They fell silent for a while, dwelling on thoughts of their odd professor.

“How’s your head?” George asked, breaking the silence.

“It’s all healed up but I still don’t remember what happened after I left Snape’s rooms,” Harry said. “Madam Pomfrey said everything points to me being pushed but I just don’t remember.”

“It was probably some Slytherins,” Fred said.

“Or even Seamus,” George added.

“I don’t think it was Seamus,” Harry said, shaking his head. “He’s just all talk. He could never actually do anything.”

The twins nodded in agreement.

“So, what do you remember from before you left the dungeons?” Fred asked pointedly.

“It was just a meeting with Snape,” Harry said vaguely.

“Whatever happened in that meeting has caused you to stop talking to him,” Fred said.

“It’s been over a week since you’ve been down to his rooms,” George said.

“So, what? It’s not like I live there,” Harry said, hoping they could avoid the rest of the topic.

“No, but it’s where you like to be,” George said. “And you used to like being with Snape?”

“What happened?” Fred asked.

“Nothing,” Harry said shortly.

“Harry,” they pushed.

“I’m not sure I should talk about it,” he argued weakly.

“You know we wouldn’t tell.”

Harry looked at them, chewing his bottom lip. Eventually he sighed deeply. “Snape told me something bad and I’m trying to figure it all out.”

“What was it?”

Harry felt his expression tighten and he looked past the twins again at the open field. “He’s got the Dark Mark and somehow he was involved in my parents’ murders.”

Fred and George stared at him in a stunned silence. Harry tried to focus on something else to stop the anger he felt building up.

“Did he tell you anything else? Like why he took the Mark? Or how he was involved in the attack? Or why he was telling you?” George said.

Harry shook his head again. “I left after he told me. I didn’t want to hear anymore.”

“You didn’t let him explain?” Fred said and then sighed when Harry stayed quiet. “Harry, you need to hear everything.”

“Why? Why should I listen to anything else from him? He’s nothing but a liar and a traitor,” Harry snapped angrily.

“Harry, don’t you say that,” George said, almost admonishing the younger Gryffindor.

“How could you even think that?” Fred said. “He has done nothing but help you this year.”

“And he’s cared about you,” George added. “You’ve got an adult that cares about you.”

“But how do I know any of it was real?” Harry said, his eyes growing sad. “How can I trust anything from him anymore?”

“How has anything changed?” Fred asked. “Isn’t he still the same person?”

Harry shrugged a shoulder. “I don’t know, that’s the thing.”

“Don’t you think you should find out?” Fred said.

“Give him a chance?” George said.

“But he was loyal to Voldemort!” Harry argued. “He took the Mark. He made that choice. He did things with the Death Eaters for Voldemort because he was loyal.”

“Does that mean he still is?” Fred said. “Look at Lucius Malfoy. What’s the difference?”

Harry dropped his head with a quiet sob. “He’s supposed to care about me.”

The twins just looked at each other, realizing they had no idea how to help their young friend. They sat with Harry in comforting silence.

* * *

“He won’t talk to me or even look at me anymore, Lucius,” Snape said, running a hand over his face in distress.

“You had to tell him, Severus,” Lucius said.

“Did I?” Snape said. “Seems things were going better _before_ I told him.”

“Well, of course they were. Did you expect him to just accept all of this instantly?”

“You said he would,” Snape argued. “All that stuff about how he accepted you and your Mark so he should do the same for me.”

“He will accept it,” Lucius said, “with time. He was able to accept my situation because we had no relationship. You two do, though, and he’s going to need time.”

“How long am I meant to wait?”

“Why the hurry?”

Snape let out a breath. “I want to become his guardian.”

Lucius’ eyes widened. “His guardian?”

Snape nodded. “He can’t go back to his relatives and Dumbledore isn’t going to do anything. The boy needs someone.”

“You think you’re ready for that?” Lucius said and Snape looked at him seriously.

“I know I can’t just ignore and abandon him, not anymore.”

Lucius gave him a smile. His friend had finally found what he truly needed in his life. “So what are you going to do?”

“I will give him time,” Snape said. “Maybe he will eventually come to me. If not, I will figure something out.”

“What about the guardianship? Your application will never make it past Dumbledore or Fudge?”

Snape gave him a pointed look. “As if you weren’t already aware of this part. You know I would be asking you to pull favour at the Ministry.”

Lucius chuckled. “True, I knew right away and of course I will do what I can.”

“Thank you, Lucius,” Snape said and then sighed. “I just hope your help will be needed.”


End file.
